
Qass V-i 1: 
Book-VLAi. 



THE 



ILLUSTRATED """^ 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF HIS EAELY DAYS, HIS NOBLE, PATRIOTIC AND 
BRILLIANT PUBLIC CAREER ; HIS MAGNANIMITY AND SELF- 
DENIAL, HIS RETIREMENT TO HIS ESTATES AT MOUNT 
VERNON ; AND FINALLY, HIS UNIVERSALLY 
LAMENTED DEATH. 

WITH 

VIVID PEN PAINTINGS OF BATTLES AiND INCIDENTS 
OF THE REVOLUTION. 

EMBRACING 

MUCH NEW AND VALUABLE INFORMATION 

OKRIVKD FROM THE RESEARCHES OF MK. LOSSING AND PAPERS OF RIIFUS PUT^fAM. 



By J. T. HEADLEY, 

AIITHOR OK " WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERAM," " NAPOLEON AND HI3 
MARSHALS," "the SACRED MOUNTAINS," ETC. 



MANY OF 1VHI0M AI£K BEAUTIFULLY COLORED, REPRESENTING BATTLE SCENES, 
INTERVIEWS, PORTRAITS. ETC., TOGETHER WITH A SPLENDID BIRD'S-EYK 
• VIEW or MOUNT AERNON AND THE TOMB OP WASHINGTON. 



SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION. 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISH]']!) BY G. & F . B t L 
1859. 



•H43 



'(^ 



03 



PREFACE. 



In preparing this work, my design has been to popularize 
the Life of Washington by confining myself to events and 
incidents intimately connected with him and his movements, 
and thus make the work less voluminous than it would be 
if it embraced a more detailed history of concurrent events. 

Recent collections of documents throwing new light on 
the war of the Revolution made such a work desirable. 
Mr. Lossing, by his researches, has exhumed a vast amount 
of interesting matter. All of Rufus Putnam's papers and 
correspondence and diary have also been put in my hands, 
which shed an entirely new light on some of the most in- 
teresting events of the Revolution, and movements of 
Washington. The reader will, therefore, find a vast num- 
ber of facts in this work which have never before appeared 
in any Life of Washington, but which add greatly to the 
interest which surrounds his character. The Historical 
Societies of different States have also yielded me, by their 
valuable collections, much aid. Their efforts for the last 
few years to gather and preserve old documents and letters, 
which were fast passing away, have added greatly to the 
material for any work connected with the Revolution. 
The amount of my indebtedness to these new sources of 
information will be readily perceived by the reader. As to 
the rest, I have consulted the usual authorities on that 
period of our history, a list of which would be too long to 
give in this place 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



STEEL ENGRAVINGS. 

PAGE 

Portrait of Washington, from an Original Painting by Stuart in the Bostoa Athenaeum, 1 
Portrait of Washington at the age of forty, from an Original Fainting in the possession 

of George W. P. Custis 135 

Putnam lleceiviug the Intelligence of the Battle of Lexington 175 

Lafayette's Last Interview with Louis Sixteenth and ilarie Antoinette before his Depart- 
ure for America 301 

Washington at Valley Forge 373 

The Oath at Valley Forge 385 



WOOD ENGRAVINGS. 

Washington and his Mother 19 y/' 

Death of Jumonville ^8^' 

Defeat of Braddock 61 '• 

Burial of Braddock 75 • 

Planting of the Royal Flag on the Ruins of Fort Duquesne 90 - 

Chairing Colonel Wood as proxy for Washington 103 

Washington's Wedding 115 

Washington Dragging the Poacher Ashore 125 

Descending the Ohio 14;5 

Chr'stening the Liberty Tree 155 

Duche's Prayer in Congress 165 

Scene at Stockbridge, on Receiving News of the Battle of Lexington 185 

Knox entering Camp with Artillery 193 

Evacuation of Boston 209 

The Bellman informed of the Passage of the Declaration of Independence 222 

Tearing Down the Statue of George III 2S1 

Young Callender Fighting his Gun 242' , 

Washington endeavoring to Rally the Fugitives £51 '-^ 

Quakei Lady Detaining the Enirlish General ,-. -- --^ • 262^ 



viiL LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

WaahingtoD and Captain Forest iuquiriDg for the Hessian Picket 271 

WashiogtoQ at Princeton 291 

Countrj-men Joining the Army under Gates 811 

Washington Urging the Countryman to Greater Speed 828 

Night Attack at Paoli 835 

Attack on Fort Mifflin 847 

Abandoning the Vessels at Gloucester 8C1 

Washington and Lee at Monmouth 8<j7 

Moll Pitcher at Monmouth AOO 

Washington Taking Leave of the Armj 434 

Washington at the Deathbed of young Custis M5 

Washington Taking Leave of his Mother 'OT 

Washington as a Farmer 'TO 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Birth and Death of Great Men— Ancestry of George— Loss of his Father- 
Sent to District School— Early History— Appointed Surveyor— Forest Life — 
Goes to Barbadoes with a Sick Brother— Appointed Major over the Militia- 
Sent a Commissioner to the French— Account of his Perilous Journey. - 

CHAPTER n. 

Washington sent against the French— Hostilities of the latter— Fort Duquesne— 
Difficulties of the March- Dangerous Explorations— Message from the Half- 
King— Night March— Attack on Jumonville— Feelings of Washington in his 
First Battle— Final Results of it— Fort Necessity— Battle of the Great Mea- 
dows—Washington Capitulates— Resigns in Disgust his Commission— Tart 
Refusal to Join the Army under Governor Sharpe— Accepts Braddock's 
Request to act as Volunteer Aid— Is taken Sick— Joins the Army— Battle of 
Monongahela— Bravery of Washington — The Retreat — Death of Braddock — • 
Washington Reads the Funeral Service — Burial by Torch-light — Scenes 
around Fort Du Quesne — Demoniacal Jubilee of the Indians — Washington at 
Mount Vernon— Disgust with the Government — Apppointed Commander-in- 
Chief of the Virginia Forces— Head-quarters at Winchester— Inroads of the 
fndians— Terror of the Settlers— Sternness of Washington— False Rumors- 
Difficulty with Captain Dagworthy — Goes to Boston to refer it to Governor 
Shirley— Reception on the way— Falls in love with Miss Phillips of New- 
York — His Return. ..--..---« 

CHAPTER m. 

Fresh Hostilities of the Indians— Attempts to Supersede Washington — Anony- 
mous Libels — Washington wishes to Resign — Prevented by his Friends — 
Establishes a Line of Forts — Harassing Nature of his Duties — Attends a 
Convention at Philadelphia — His Sickness and Retirement to Mount Vernon — 
Progress of the War — Frederick the Great — Washington's first Acquaint- 
ance with Mrs. Custis — Advance of the Army to Fort Du Quesne — Wash- 
ington required to cut a New Road — His Forebodings likely to prove true — • 
Capture of the Fort— Election of Washington to the House of Burgesses — 
His Marriage — Life at Mount Vernon — Collision with a Poacher — Settles the 
Soldiers' Claims— Expedition to the Western Wilderness to examine the 
Wild Lands — Admirable Preparation for his Future Career. - - - 

ix 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CUAPTER IV 



Character of the Colonists— First Attempt to Tax the Provinces — Its Recep- 
tion by the People — Taxation Discussed in the Britisli I'arlianicnt— Speech 
of Colonel Barre — Attitude of Virginia — Speech of Patrick Henry — South 
Carolina and Gadsden — Attacks on Stamp-Master J. lugersoU — First Con- 
gress at New York — The Stamp Act Repealed— Excitement and Joy of the 
Colonists — Washington's Views of it — Duties on Tea, Paper, etc. — Tea 
tlirown overboard in Boston ILirbur — Port Bill — Virginia Assembly and 
Conduct of Washington — Fast Day — Fairfax Resolutions — Washington's 
Letter to Mr. Bryan Fairfax — IJe is Elected a Delegate to the First General 
Congress — Action of Congress — Pra_ver by Duche — Washington's standing 
in Congress— Lexington and Concord— Excitement of the People — Stock- 
bridge — The Second Congress — Washington Chairman of every Committee — 
Appointed Commander-in-Chief — Battle of Bunker Hill — Journey of Wash- 
ington to Cambridge — Takes Command of the Army — Its Character — Ap- 
jiearance of the Encampment — Washington's first order — (Vganization of 
the Army — Diffleulties that beset him — Forced to act contrary to his 
wishes. 



CHAPTER V. 

Washington Remonstrates against the Treatment of American Prisoners — 
Sends Arnold to Quebec — Want of Powder in the Army — A new Army 
raised — The National Flag first hoisted — Washington prevented from As- 
saulting the Enemy's Works — His feelings under the delay — Thinks of the 
Poor at Home — " Boston Blockaded," a farce — Washington takes Possession 
of Dorchester Heights — Howe resolves to storm them — Attempt abandoned, 
and the Evacuation of Boston commenctd — Sufferings of tlie Tories — Wash- 
ington orders the Army to New York — Lee sent South — His Letter — Wa.sh- 
ington Visits Congress — His Views of a Declaration of Independence — Defeat 
of the Northern Army — Attempt to spread Disaffection in Washington's 
Guard — Congress discusses the Declaration of Independence — Excitement 
in Philadelphia at the final vote — Its reception by the Army and People — 
Operations aroimd New York — Howe's Letter to George Washington, Esq. 
The assembling of the British force — State of the two Armies. 

CHAPTER YI. 

The British laml on Long Island— Sickness of Greene — The Battle — Defeat of 
Sullivan and Stirling — Masterly Retreat to New York — Causes of Failure — 
New York abandoned — Retreat of Washington to Harla;m Heights — Land- 
ing of the British at Kip's Bay — Poltroonery of the Americans and rage of 
AVashington — His severe Order of the Day — Remarks on lliis Conduct of 
Washington — Narrow Escai)e of Putnam with his Division — Skirmish be- 
tween two Detachments and Death of Knowllon — Mancuvrc of Howe and 
Baltic of Chatterton's Hill— Retreat of Washington— Fall of Fort Washing- 
ton. ------- 



TABLEOFC (INTENTS. XI 



CHAPTER VII. 



Retreat of Washington through the Jerseys— Disorganization of his Army— 
Finally takes post beyond the Delaware, near Trenton — Unaccountable 
apathy— Washington takes advantage of it— Reinforced— Reorganization of 

the Anny — Washington resolves to march on Trenton Passage of the 

riyer — The Attack— The Victory — March on Princeton — Astonishment of 
Cornwallis— Death of Colonel Rahl— The effect of the Victory upon the 
Country — Poverty of the Army — Robert Morris, the noble Financier — 
etc.; etc. ------------ 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Washington's Fame in Europe— Barbarity of the Hessians — Depredations of 
the Troops— General Heath summons Fort Independence to surrender — 
Washington issues a counter Proclamation to that of Hovre — Illy received 
in New Jersey — Five additional Major Generals and ten Brigadiers appoint- 
ed — Inhuman treatment of American Prisoners by the British — Arnold and 
Wooster drive Governor Tryon back to his ships — Meigs' Expedition to Sag 
Harbor— The British Evacuate New Jersey — Arrival of Lafayette -His 
Interview with Washington — The British land at Elk and march on Phila- 
delphia—Washington advances to meet them — Skirmishing — Washington 
re-crosses the Brandywine and takes position near Chad's Ford — Position 
of the Northern Army, etc. .--».-. r 



CHAPTER IX. 

Battle of Brandywine — A new account of the loss of the Biitish, found among 
ijrenerai Clinton's papers — Washington again offers Howe Battle — Defeat of 
Wayne at Paoli — Philadelphia taken — Fortifications erected at Mud Bank 
and Red Bank — Tenacity of Washington — Battle of Germantown — Cause 
of the Defeat of the Americans. -------- 



CHAPTER X. 

Fall of Burgoyne — Sermon of Timothy Dwight — Letter from Washington to 
Howe — Attack on Fort Mercer and Death of Count Donop — Gallant Defence 
and Fall of Fort IMifflin — Fall of Fort Mercer — March of Howe against 
Washington, and Address of the latter to his Troops — The Conway Cabal 
and fate of the head Conspirators— Valley Forge — Sufferings of the Soldiers — 
Washington at Prayer— Labors of Washington and Inefficiency of Congress — 
The Half-Pay Establishment— Washington's Answer to the Complaint that 
he did not make a Winter Campaign — News of the Alliance of France — 
Celebration of it in Valley Forge — Baron Steuben and the Effects of his 
Discipline on the Army — Howe resolves to Evacuate Philadelphia — Council 
of War in American Camp on the best course to adopt. 



XU TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Lafayette at Barren Dill— The Oath of Alligiancc taken by the OflBcers — 
Strange tonduct of Lee — Kvacuation of Philaddphia — Detennination of 
Washington— Baltic of Monmouth and conduct of Lee — Arrival of the 
Frencli Fk-tt— Attack on New York planned— Failure of the Attempt against 
Newport, and Di.si)k'asure of the French Commander — Massacre of Baylor's 
Dragoons and American Troops at E;.'g Harbor — Destitute condition of the 
Anny, and Opinions of Washington as to the result of it— The Army in 
Winter Quarters— Miserable condition of Congress— Sickness of Lafayette — 
Washington consults with Congress on the Plan of the Summer Cami)aign — 
Resolves to act solely against the Indians— Sullivan's Exi>edition — Taking 
of Stony and Verplanck's Points— Governor Tryon's Foray— Successful At- 
tack of Wayne on Stony Point— Lossing's Accusations refuted — Wretched 
state of the Currency— Washington's Indignation against Speculators — 
Count Vergennes' views of Washington— Suffering of the Troops in Winter 
Quarters at Morristown— The Life Guard— Death of the Spanish Agent — 
Washington partakes of the Communion in a Presbyterian Church— National 
Bankruptcy threatened — Arrival of Lafayette with the news of a large 
French Force having sailed- Noble Conduct of the Ladies of Philadelphia, 
and of Robert Morris, in Supplying the Soldiers with Clothing. 

CHAPTER Xn. 

Fall of Charleston— Arrival of the French Fleet— Defeat of Gates— Washington 
visiLs Rochambeau— Treason of Arnold— Arrest of Andre— His Execution — 
Cornwallis in the South— Project of an Attack on New York— Suffering of 
the Troops— Mutiny in Wayne's command— Mutiny of the New Jersey 
Troops, and prompt action of Washington — Inefficiency of Congress, and 
jealousies of the States— Arnold's Expedition into Virginia— Action between 
the English and French Fleet— Lafayette sent South to cooperate with Steu- 
ben — Operations in Virginia — Washington's Letter to the Manager of his 
Estate— State of the Army— Letter to Paul Jones— Patriotism of Robert 
Morris— Washington prepares to attack New Y'ork— Cornwallis retreats 
before Lafayette to Y'orktown— The allied Army marches rapidly South — 
Washington visits Mount Vernon — Arrival of the French Fleet in the Chesa- 
peake—Anxiety of Washington— York town invested— Progress and Inci- 
dents of the Siege— Capitulation of the Army— Excitement and joy of the 
American People— Effect of the News on the British Ministry. 

CHAPTER Xm. 

Sickness and Death of young Custis— Departure of the French Fleet — Desti- 
nation of the Treiops — Circular Letter to the States — Lincoln Secretary of 
War— Green around Charleston— Hcad-qunrtcrs at Newbnrgh — The Tem- 
ple — Case of Captain Iluddy and Captain Asgill — Defeat of the English 
Ministry— Proposal to make Washington king — Settlement of the case of 
young Asgill — Meeting of French and American Troops at King's Ferr}'— 
Destitution of the Officers — Washington's views on the subject — " New burgh 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. Xlii 

Addresses"— Proclamation of Peace— Washiugton addresses a Circular 
Letter to the States— Visits Northern Battle Fields— Disbanding of the 
Army— Evacuation of New York— Farewell to the Officers— Washington 
surrenders his Commission to Congress — His feelings on laying down power — 
Visits his Land "West— Improves his Farm— Interview with Lafayette, and 
Letter to him after his departure — His habits of life— Inefficiency of Con- 
gress — Washington's views and feelings on it— Society of the Cincinnati — 
Convention called to form a Constitution — Washington chosen President — 
The Constitution— Washington elected First President of the United States. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Washington prepares to leave Mount Vernon — He visits Fredericksburg, to 
take leave of his jMother — He departs for New York — The Journey — Tri- 
umphal Arch at Trenton — Reception at Elizabethtown — Arrival and wel- 
come at New York — Installation of Washiugton as First President of the 
United States — He declines Compensation for his Services — Illness and 
Recovery — Debate on Titles — Death of the Mother of Washington — Organi- 
zation of the Departments — Washington makes a Tour through the Eastern 
States — The Seat of Government is removed from New York to Philadel- 
phia — Establishment of a National Bank — Washington Visits the Southern 
States — Development of Factions — He desires to retire at the close of his 
term of Administration — Is induced to serve a second time — Re-inaugurated 
President of the United States — The French Revolution — England declares 
War against France — Washington issues a Proclamation of strict neutrality — 
Opposition and Enmity — M. Genet's Arrival and Assumption — Washington 
requests his Recall — Relations with England — Jay's Mission — Opposition to 
the Tax on Distilled Spirits — Proclamation to the Insurgents — Calling out 
of the Militia — Restoration of Peace — Jay's Treaty — Its Ratification — Resig- 
nation of Randolph, Secretary of State — Washington's Private Life — De- 
scription of his Appearance on State Occasions — Imprisonment of Lafayette — 
Washington's Successful Intercession in his behalf— Washington's Farewell 
Address — Election of John Adams — Washington returns to Mount Vernon — 
His Life in Retirement — Difficulties with France — Washington appointed 
Commander-in-Chief— He returns to Philadelphia to organize the Army — 
Interview with Dr. Logan — Napoleon — Terms of Accommodation at Paris — 
Washington at Jlount Vernon— His Last Illness— His Death — Dis Character. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER I. 



Birth and Death of Great Men — Ancestry of George — Loss of his Father — Sent 
to District School — Early History — Appointed Surveyor — Forest Life — Goes to 
Barbadoes with a Sick Brother— Appointed Major over the Militia— Sent a Com- 
missioner to the French — Account of his Perilous Journey. 

Nature is not lavish of prodigies, and when she gives us 
one in the human species, men are always expecting she 
will indicate it by some outward sign. A lioness must cast 
her whelps in the streets when a monster is born — some 
convulsion of the earth, or strange appearance in the hea- 
vens, give token when a great soul has arrived on the 
earth, whose life is to change the current of history. We 
love to associate mysterious phenomena with strange and 
mysterious men. When Cromwell's stormy spirit was 
passing from this troubled sphere, the enraged winds and 
waves strewed the English coast with stranded vessels. As 
Napoleon lay struggling in the last throes of mortal life, 
the sea rose with a thundering sound over its barriers, as 
if striving to reach the spot where the great sufferer lay. 

But no such violent changes of nature heralded the birth 
or accompanied the death of Washington. 

Serenely like the sun, as if in harmony with the universe, 
he arose on the world — so bright and undimmed he moved 
over the firmament, and without a cloud to dim his splendor 
sunk gloriously to rest. 

We take a deep interest in the childhood of great men, 
for we wish to detect, if possible, indications of their future 

15 



lo LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

greatness, and trace the mental processes by which they 
reached their elevation. Our curiosity in this respect is 
rather excited than gratified by the meagre accounts that 
have come down to us of Washington's early days. There 
are many traditions, all in harmony with his general charac- 
ter, but not substantiated as matters of history. His manly 
refusal to tell a lie to escape punishment, his generosity in 
winning a prize, by his superior strength, for another, and 
his love of the right exhibited in more instances than one, 
are so many floating traditions, which may or may not be 
true. The retired place of his birth, and the stem character 
of the times and men that surrounded his earlier years, 
would naturally cause his boyish conduct to pass unnoticed, 
leaving to the mother alone the pleasing task of hoarding 
up all his noble traits and generous deeds. 

The ancestor of George held the manor of Sulgrave, in 
Northamptonshire, England, which was granted to him in 
1538. His grandson Lawrence had several cliildren, two 
of whom* (the second and fourth) emigrated to Virginia in 
1657. They bought plantations in Westmoreland, on the 
Potomac, and became successful farmers. John Washing- 
ton entered into active service against the Indians, and rose 
to the rank of colonel. He had two sons and a daughter. 
The elder son, Lawrence, married Mildred Warner, by whom 
he had three cliildren, John, Augustine, and Mildred. 
Auf:riistine, the second son, married Jane Butler, by whom 
he had four children, two of whom dying in infiincy, left 
only Lawrence and Augustine. His wife also dying, he 
married in 1730 Mary Ball, by whom he had sLx children ; 
Georpe, who was bom in Westmoreland county, February 
22d, 1732, and Betty, Samuel, John, Augustine, Charles, 
and Mildred. The latter, however, died in infancy. While 
George was yet very young, his father removed to an estate 

» John nn<l Lawrence— the eldest, William, married a half-sister of George VH- 
licrs, Duke of Buckingham. 



LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 17 

wliich lie owned in Stafford county, where he died in 1743. 
To each of his sons he left a plantation of several hundred 
acres. To George, at this time eleven years old, was 
reserved the estate on which he then lived. Four chil- 
dren younger than he constituted a large family of almost 
infants, to be brought up by the widowed mother. But 
she was a woman of uncommon character, combining in 
harmonious proportions all those qualities necessary to 
make the best and noblest of our species — a good and true 
mother. George was her eldest born, on whom she was to 
rely in her old age, and she watched his early development 
with that solicitude a pious mother only knows. She saw 
in him those generous and noble traits which afterward 
distinguished him — marked with pride his manly scorn of a 
lie, his hatred of wrong and oppression, whatever the forms 
they took, and his enthusiastic love of the great and tlie 
good. But she saw also a bold and impetuous nature, which, 
when thoroughly roused, was not easily laid — a fearlessness 
and recklessness of danger, that made her heart tremble, and 
it was with prayers and earnest teachings, that she sought 
to place that nature under the control of reason and the law 
of right. Around that bold and passionate heart she cast 
ligature after ligature, woven from truth and duty and 
conscience, and bound them with maternal fondness there, 
till even its wildest throbbings could not rend them 
asunder. Right well and faithfully was her work done. 
It stood the fiery trials of youth, the storms of battle and 
the temptations of ambition, and when at last, conqueror 
and hero, he leaned his head, covered with honors, on her 
aged shoulder, and wept as he bade her farewell to take his 
place at the head of the republic which he had saved, she 
reaped the fruit of her labors. How little she knew what 
destinies hung on her instructions, as that boy stood by her 
knee and listened to her counsel. With his passions 
cultivated instead of restrained, and his reflective faculties 



18 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and conscience kept in abeyance by his strong impulses, he 
would have made a great and brilliant man, but never have 
become the founder of more than an em2Dire and the beacon 
light of the world. 

At this time only thinly populated and widely separated 
settlements were scattered through Virginia, so that no 
colleges or high schools had been founded. Parents, 
therefore, who wished to give their sons a classical 
education, were compelled to send them to England. If 
they could not afford to do this, they had to fall back on a 
private tutor, or a district school in which only the common 
rudiments of education were taught. To the latter George 
was sent, and it was well that it happened so. However 
valuable a thorough education is, the mission George 
Washington Avas to fulfdl required that he should be wholly 
one of the people. He could not have been educated in 
the universities of Europe, without at the same time 
coming under influences, the whole tendency of which 
would be to unfit him for the place assigned him by 
Heaven. Here, amid our jDrimeval forests, in constant 
intercourse with the hardy settlers, trained in the rough 
life of the pioneer, and representing in himself the love of 
the soil, the fearless independence and self-reliance of the 
people, he became their true representative and leader. 

At thirteen years of age we find him sitting in one of 
those humble school-houses in a Virginia clearing, which 
still form one of the most distinctive characteristics of 
our country. Full of lusty life, his shout rings over the 
fields as- he bounds away from his pursuers, or his laugh 
mingles with the rollicking group, as they wrestle and leap 
and toss the l)ar in boyish rivalry. One of his graver 
sports was to arrange his playmates in companies, and, 
placing himself at their head, march and countermarch 
them or lead them to the charge in mimic battle, l^old 
and athletic, he soon acquired influence over his companions 



niifl 



'«Wflilf»lif3ffw^^Tn, 




ASHINGTON RKCEIVINU INSTKUCTIOM b'HOM HIS MOTHER. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 21 

by his jDliysical strength, while, by his j^robity and love 
of justice, he caused himself to be referred to as arl)iter in 
all their quarrels. His hand dealt swift j)unishment on acts 
of meanness and oppression, for he would no more suffer 
wrong than do it. In school he was as much marked by 
his application and acquirements, as he was out of doors by 
his strength and agility. His taste in books was uncom- 
monly grave, and he reveals at this early age the systematic 
subjection to wholesome rules under which he ever after 
placed all his conduct. He formed little manuscript books, 
into which he copied the forms used by men in transacting 
business, such as bonds, bills of exchange, notes of hand, 
receipts, etc. Selections of poetry are scattered along, 
evidently not such as a boy would naturally prefer. They 
were simply religious maxims, and doubtless had been 
hoarded from his mother's teachings. 

He made also a large collection of rules of behavior, 
which reveal a remarkably matured mind in one so young. 
Many of them would not be comprehended by a boy of 
thirteen, much less have arrested his attention and be set 
aside as guides to himself: such as "Gaze not on the 
marks and blemishes of others, and ask not how they 
came." " What you may speak in secret to your friend, 
deliver not before others." " Let your recreations be 
manful, not sinful." "When you speak of God, or his 
attributes, let it be seriously and in reverence." " Honoi? 
and obey your natural parents, although they be poor."" 
"Labor to keep alive in your heart that little spark of 
celestial lire called conscience." 

It is certainly extraordinary to see a mere child thus 
reduce his life, as it were, to system, and shape all his 
conduct to rules of morality. The foundation of a 
well-balanced and virtuous character, thus early established, 
could not but result in a noble and complete structure. In 
his case the tree obeyed the inclination of the twig, ta 

2 



22 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

perfection, and lie grew np a striking example of the 
power and benefit of right early training. Virtues planted 
so deep in the heart are proof against the fiercest storms 
and severest temptations of life. 

lie had a decided taste for mathematics, which soon led 
him from the simple rules of arithmetic, into geometry, 
trigonometry and surveying; and he spent much of his 
time in surveying the lots around the school-house. 

A fiery nature, that loves excitement and danger, joined 
to a mathematical taste and science, always gives a strong 
character, for it shows a union of the imaginative and 
retlective fiiculties, of energy and discretion, impulse and 
great accuracy — a union which in itself is power. Bona- 
parte exhibited these traits of character in an extraordinary 
degree, making him 1)oth rapid and exact — quick as the 
liditninii's flash and as certain of its mark. 

IJow different are the ways by which Heaven reaches 
results from those pursued by man f The wisest states- 
men of France and England were absorbed in the affairs 
of this continent, and its fate depended, in their esti- 
mation, wholly on the wisdom of their management and 
the strength of their armies, while around the form of a 
lad of thirteen, in a Virginia school-house, clustered its 
entire destinies. 

Young Washington was not quite sixteen, when, with 

his education completed, he left school and launched 

forth into active life. The treaty of Aix la Chapelle, to 

f^c completion of which had been given the thought and 

/efTvrt of the wisest diplomatists in the world, had just 

.clo»«-d. Around it had gathered the attention of all 

Eurojy?, but men were mistaken, the destinies did not 

liover about that imposing convention, but attended the 

footsteps of this unknown lad, as he 25assed through the 

forests of his native land. 

On apparently trivial matters often hinge the greatest 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 23 

issues. Lawrence, the elder brother, having served as an 
officer in the English navy under General Wentworth and 
Admiral Vernon, in the expedition against the West Indies, 
he through them obtained a midshipman's bertli for George. 
The latter was delighted at the prospect thus opened to 
him, and immediately began to make jDrcparations for join- 
ing his vessel. His mother, however, wavered ; she could 
not trust her first-born, her prop and stay, to the dangers 
and temptations of a naval life, and took it to heart so 
grievously that the project was finally abandoned. Once 
locked up in the British navy, and he never could have 
become the leader of the revolutionary army. 

After George left school he went to his brother Law- 
rence, living at Mount Vernon, and passed the winter in 
studying mathematics and in practical surveying. He 
here became acquainted with the family of Lord Fairfax, 
whose daughter Lawrence had married, and through them 
was introduced into the highest circles of societ}^ This 
eccentric but highly-cultivated nobleman took a great fancy 
to young George, and resolved to employ him in surveying 
large tracts of wild land which he owned in the interior. 
The young surveyor accepted his proposals, and, setting out 
in March, before the snows had left the summits of the 
Alleghany, entered the forest and jDassed an entire month 
amid the mountains. The third day out, after working 
hard till night, he sought shelter in a miserable hovel stand- 
ing alone in the midst of a clearing. On retiring to bed, 
he undressed himself as usual, and jumped in. To his 
amazement, however, he discovered that his bed consisted 
of nothing but straw matted together, without sheets, and 
covered with a single dilapidated blanket, loaded down 
" with double its weight of vermin." His escapade from the 
straw was made with more alacrity than his entrance, and, 
dressing himself, he laid down outside. This was his first 



24 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 




A 

BOOK o£ cS'llRVEYi 



J. 



TOLY 12- J749 




lesson in frontier life, and he resolved after that to sleep 
out under the clear heavens. 

Pushing his difhcult way to the Potomac, he found the 
I'iver swollen ])y the melted snows of the Alleghanies, and 
rolling such a turhulent flood that it was impossible to cross 
it. Waiting two days for the waters to subside, he then 
Bwam his horses across and kept up the Maryland side, and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 25 

in a drenching rain-storm made forty miles, " over the 
worst road ever trod by man or beast." Halting for a day 
and a half, till the storm broke, he came upon a party of 
thirty Indians, returning from a war expedition. Following 
the custom of those days, he gave them some rum, which 
so exhilarated them that they resolved to entertain him 
with a war-dance. Building a huge fire, they gathered 
around it, and, to the din of their wild music, treated the 
young surveyor to a scene as novel as it was picturesque. 

Thus day after day he kept on, and at length crossed the 
first ridge of the Alleghanies and entered on an almost 
untrodden wilderness, and commenced his surveys. Scat- 
tered Dutch settlers, that could not speak a word of English, 
collected as he passed, and the men, women and children, 
with their uncouth language, streamed after him to watch 
the mysterious process of surveying. They gathered 
together round his camp-fire, and made the night hideous 
with their grotesque ajDpearance and half savage behavior. 

Young Washington, only sixteen years of age, sitting by 
his camp-fire, its ruddy light flinging into bright relief the 
encircling forest, whose trunks, like columns of some old 
dimly-lighted cathedral, receded away in the gloom, sur- 
rounded by these half-savage children of the wilderness, 
would make a good subject for a painter. One night a 
violent storm arose — the trees rocked and roared over head, 
and the wind, dashing down amid the embers, whirled them 
over the straw on which he lay, setting it on fire. In a 
moment the camp was in a blaze, and, but for the sudden 
waking of one of the men, Washington would have been 
wrapped in the flames. Sometimes the wind would sud- 
denly shift, blowing the smoke full on the sleepers, when 
they would be compelled to bivouac out amid the trees. 

Having accomplished the task assigned him ably, he 
obtained the appointment of public surveyor, and for three 
years, excepting the winter months, passed most of his time 



26 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

ill the wilderness. It was the same succession of hardsliips 
and exposures. To-thiy swimming rapid streams, to-morrow 
drenched and chilled, j)ickiiig his way through the dripping 
forest — now reclining at the close of the day on some slope 
of the AUeghanies, and gazing off on the autumnal glories 
of the boundless solitude, as it la}^ bathed in the rich hues 
of the setting sun ; and again, pitching his tent, beside his 
lonely camp-fire, whose light paled before the flashes that 
rent the gloom, while the peals of thunder that reverbe- 
rated along the cliffs seemed trebly fearful in that far-ofl' 
wilderness, he passed through scenes calculated to make a 
heart naturally bold impervious to fear, and an iron consti- 
tution doubly insensible to fatigue. A better training to 
impart self-reliance and coolness in the hour of peril, and 
indomitable energy, could not have been furnished, while 
those moral qualities which, amid the false tastes of more 
cultivated life, might have sickened, could not but be 
strengthened by these long and glorious communions with 
nature. God sent Moses forty years in the wilderness 
before he would allow him to lead his chosen people to 
the land of Canaan. So did Washington pass a long novi- 
tiate amid the solitudes of his native country, the better to 
prepare him to lead the children of freedom to peace and 
security. 

IIow little he imagined, as he stood on some ridge of the 
AUeghanies, and looked off on the sinking and swelling 
forests beyond, that in a short time those solitudes would 
be filled with the hum of cities, and that on those very 
summits would meet from either side the shout of millions 
on millions of free people, sending still higher, in reverence 
and transport, liis own great name to the skies. Of all the 
gorgeous visions that flitted before his youthful imagina- 
tion — of all the strange and marvelous destinies that the 
young heart will dream of, none were so strange and mar- 
velous as that which actually befell him. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 27 

During all this time lie was a slave to that tender passion. 
to which the strongest of our race, in the midst of their 
power, have fallen helpless victims. Its object, history and 
issue, remain in obscurity. He has left only here and there 
a memento of the inward struggle. An occasional sonnet 
to his lowland beauty, a melancholy tone j)ervading his let- 
ters at this time, shows that he suffered deeply, but whether 
from rejected love, or from the effort to subdue an affection 
which circumstances forbade him to cherish, is not known. 

In a letter to a friend, after sjoeaking of the 25leasures he 
derived from correspondence with those he loved, he says, 
" My place of residence, at present, is at his lordship's 
(Lord Fairfax,) where I might, were my heart disengaged, 
pass my time very pleasantly, as there is a very agreeable 
young lady in the same house, Colonel George Fairfax's 
wife's sister. But that only adds fuel to the fire, as being 
often and unavoidably in company with her, revives my 
former passion for your lowland beauty ; whereas, were I 
to live more retired from young women, I might, in some 
measure, alleviate my sorrow by burying that chaste and 
troublesome jDassion in oblivion, and I am very well assured 
that this will be the only antidote or remedy," 

This lowland beauty was all the world to the 3^oung sur- 
veyor for awhile, and how he . succeeded in driving her at 
last from his heart, does not appear, but probably more 
exciting scenes ef!lxced the impression which he would not 
allow to be kept fresh by personal intercourse. 

That Washington was something more than an able 
and faithful surveyor, is evident from the great confi- 
dence reposed in him by the government. We have 
not the comiDlete history of the boy-man. He must 
have exhibited more extraordinary qualities than appear 
on the surflice, to have been chosen, as he was at 
this time, though but nineteen years of age, commander of 
one of the districts of the province which had been set off 



28 LIFE OF WASIIIXr. TON. 

in onler to organize more eflectually the militia, to resist 
the depredations of the Indians, His title was that of adju- 
tant-general, with the rank of major. 

Younu; "Washington had now got into the profession best 
suited t(» liis tastes, and he immediately commenced studying 
military tactics, and practicing the sword exercise, until he 
hecnnie familiar with the one, and very skillful in the use 
of the other. He had, however, hardly begun his military 
service, into which he entered with all his heart, when he 
was compelled for a time to abandon it. Tlis brother Law- 
rence, who had l)een for some time slowlj^ sinking under a 
pulmonary disease, was advised by his physician to seek 
a warmer climate. Not wishing in his delicate state of 
health to go alone, he took his favorite brother, George, 
with him, and sailed for Barbadoes in September, 1751. 

They were five weeks in making the voyage. Change 
of climate, however, wrought no permanent change for the 
better in the invalid, and after staying a few weeks on the 
island, he resolved to return to Bermuda. In the mean 
time, George was seized with the small-pox, and lay con- 
fined for three weeks. Immediately on his recovery, he 
was dispatched by his brother to Virginia, to bring his wife 
to Bermuda, to join liim there. His passage home was a 
long- and stormy one. He was absent in all four months. 
His brother, finding that he continued to grow worse, wrote 
home, requesting his wife not to join him. He lingered on 
till summer, when he came home, and rapidly sank into the 
grave. 

George being left one of the executors of his ])rothcr's 
property, which was very large, his time for awhile became 
almost exclusively occupied in taking care of it. Mount 
Vernon, with other estates, had "l)een left to the only sur- 
viving daughter, but in case she died without children, they 
>^-erc to go to George. 

In the mean time Governor Dimviddie had divided \'ir- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 29 

ginia into four military divisions, and appointed Washing- 
ton, whose commission had been renewed, over the northern. 
This division covered a large territory, which he was 
required to visit at stated intervals. The militia in the 
various sections were mustered to receive him when he 
came, and he reviewed and instructed them, as well as the 
othcers, in the duties of their calling. Very tall and finely 
formed, he was at this time the impersonation of a fine 
military character, and carried all the enthusiasm of his 
ardent nature into the profession so congenial to his tastes, 
and so in accordance with his love of excitement and 
adventure. 

The French and English were at this time contending for 
the mastery of the continent. The latter occupied the 
Atlantic slope, while Canada was in possession of the 
former, who were making vigorous efforts to control the 
western lakes and rivers south to the mouth of the Missis- 
sippi, and thus shut up the English east of the Alleghany 
Mountains. Intelligence was soon received that they had 
already crossed over from Canada, and were erecting fortifi- 
cations and establishing posts along the Ohio. This was 
crowding close upon the Virginia province, while, at the 
same time, it unsettled the Indians, hitherto at peace, so 
that an ominous cloud was gathering on the frontier. Eng- 
land had anticipated this state of things, and sent over 
orders to have two forts built on the Ohio, and dispatched 
thirty cannon, with ammunition, to defend them. The 
French, however, had outstrijDped the slow movements of 
their rival, for they had already commenced a line of mih- 
tary posts, to extend from New Orleans to Canada. Their 
claims to this vast territory were based on the right of 
discovery and the stipulations of European treaties to which 
England acceded, viz., that France should retain all her 
actual possessions in America. By an extraordinary con- 
struction the latter insisted that having discovered the 



^0 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTOX. 

Mississippi river, she Lad a right to all the territories 
through which its waters flowed. Equally ahsurd with this 
claim was that of England, who based her right on Indian 
treaties, although the tribes with which she made them had 
no more power to cede away the land west of the Ohio, 
than they had that west of the Mississippi. On their vague 
assertion that they had at some former time conquered it, 
although the present savage occupants yielded them no 
allegiance, and denied their pretensions, the English made 
a treaty with them including vast territories occupied by 
other inde})endent tribes. The Indians might Avell be 
astonished at the turn things had taken, and be puzzled to 
know what course to pursue. The}^ asked Mr. Gist, who 
had been sent by Governor Dinwiddle to trade with them, 
^'whereabout the Indian lands lay, as the French cluimed all on 
one side of the Ohio, and the English all on the other.'^ The 
claims of both England and France rested on a miserable 
foundation enough ; but, so far as the two nations were 
concerned, the latter had clearly the advantage. It was 
evident, however, that ?night was to settle tlie question. 

As a flrst step. Governor Dinwiddie resolved to send a 
commissioner to the French commamler on the Ohio, and 
demand why he invaded his British majesty's dominions, 
and what he proposed to do. To undertake this, through 
nearly six hundred miles of forest fdled with Indians and 
crossed only by trails, required a man of no common intrepi- 
dity, fortitude, energy, skill and daring. 

There needs no stronger proof of the high estimation in 
which young "Washington, then only twent^'-one years old, 
•was held, than the selection of him to perform this hazard- 
ous mission. The oldest frontiersman might well have 
shrunk fioiu it, for it would task the hardihood and endu- 
rance of a man trained a life-long in the woods. 

His instructions were, to proceed at once to the Ohio, 
and, assendjling the neighboring Lidian chiefs at a place 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 31 

called Logstown, explain his visit, and request an escort of 
warriors to the French post. After delivering his message 
and demanding an answer, he was to ascertain, as far as 
possible, the number, position and designs of the French. 

Thus fortified with instructions, he set out on the last day 
of October, and, after a journey of fourteen days, reached 
Will's Creek, the utmost verge of civilization. Here he 
found Mr. Gist, an old and experienced backwoodsman, and 
engaged him as a guide. With a French and Indian inter- 
preter, two Indian traders and two drivers, making in all 
eight persons, he left the haunts of the white man, and, 
striking an Indian trail, stretched through the wilderness. 
Floundering through swamps, swimming deep rivers, and 
straining up the steep mountains, the little company kejDt 
on its difficult way, and at length reached the junction of 
the Alleghany and Monongahela. Washington's quick eye 
saw at once the advantages of the jDlace, both for a fortifi- 
cation and a depot for provisions, and by his advice a mili- 
tary post was afterward established there. Pushing on to 
Logstown, he assembled a few Indian chiefs and made them 
a speech. Among these, one called the Half-King was the 
most distinguished. Persuading him, with three other 
Indians, to accompany him as guides, the young major 
started for the French fortification, a hundred and twenty 
miles distant. St. Pierre, the commander of the post, an 
old man and a knight, received him with marked urbanity 
He promised to take Governor Dinwiddle's communication 
into consideration, and after two days gave his reply, declar- 
ing it was not for him to discuss treaties, but obey orders, 
and he should not leave his post till commanded to do so. 

During this time Washington was examining the fort, 
making drawings of the works, and noting down the num- 
ber of cannon and men and strength of the post. 

It was now the middle of December; the heavy and 
incessant rain-storms had turned into snow, obliterating the 



32 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

paths and covering the forest with one vast winding-sheet. 
Fearing that tlie snow wonld become so deep that the horsea 
would break down in their long journey across the wilder- 
ness, he sent them back to Venango, to wait there and 
recruit, while he made t\re passage down the river in a 
canoe. 

The French commandant used every artifice to detach 
the Half-King from Washington, and, not succeeding, deter- 
mined to detain him till the latter was gone. But the 
young major, feeling how important it was to keep as allies 
the tribes over which this chief had influence, was resolved 
not to leave without him. Winter was deepening, and he 
was anxious to be oil", and he remonstrated with the French 
commandant on the unfair course he was taking, l^ut 
every appeal of the straight-forward Virginian was met 
with the bland smile and courteous denial of a true Fiencli- 
man. Being pushed, however, to give a reason for the 
detention of the savage chief, the wary old knight replied 
that the latter was waiting for the present of a gun pro- 
mised him next morning. 

The Half-King, having at length obtained his gun, pre- 
pared to leave ; but the French commandant, still intent on 
retaining him, endeavored to get him druidv. Washington, 
however, never left the Indian's side, and by plying him 
with appeals and remonstrances, and pressing on him the 
necessity of keeping his sacred promise, at length had the 
satisfaction of seeing him depart. 

Embarking in a single ca oe, they pushed out into the 
turl)ulent river, and started for Venango, one hundred and 
thirty miles distant. It was a perilous voyage, for the 
stream was swollen and fdled with uprooted trees and drift- 
wood, that were hurled along the rajiid current on which 
their fiail vessel danced like a feather. As night closed 
over the forest the canoe was hauled on shore, a fire built, 
aaid the party bivouacked on the icy bank till morning. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 35 

With the dawn the boat was again launchecl, and went 
flying down the stream, requiring all the vigilance of eye 
and hand to keep it from being wrecked. Now they would 
shoot straight toward a rock, around which the water 
foamed and boiled in fierce eddies — again glance away from 
a cliff, against which they threatened to dash, und at last 
grounded on a deceitful shoal, compelling the whole -party 
to disembark in the icy water. The savage king and the 
tall young envoy had to wade along, side by side, dragging 
the boat for half an hour over the pebbles before they could 
get into deep water again, and then, chilled and dripping, 
continue their voyage. At length they came upon a barri- 
cade of ice, stretching completely across the channel. 
Around this the canoe had to be carried for a quarter of a 
mile. They were a whole week making this hundred and 
thirty miles. 

Having at last reached Venango, Washington bade the 
Half-King good-by, with much good advice not to let the 
fine speeches of the French detach him from his friendshijj 
to the English, and next day struck into the wilderness. 
The horses, however, were feeble and emaciated, and being 
overloaded with provisions which the party were obliged to 
carry with them, soon began to show symptoms of giving 
out. In oixler to relieve them as much as possible, Wash- 
ington gave up his own animal for a pack-horse, and, 
dressed in an Indian hunting-shirt, waded on foot through 
the forest. But the cold becoming intense, and the soft 
snow freezing hard, through which the horses floundered 
with difficult}^ it was evident they could not proceed ; so 
after the third day, he left them and the party in charge of 
Mr. Vanbraam, and with Mr. Gist alone set out for the dis- 
tant colonies. The tall, handsome, and athletic young 
Virginian, in his closely fitting Indian costume, his pack on 
his back, his knife in his belt, and his trusty rifle in his 
hand, presented a fine contrast to the brawny backwoods- 



3G LIFE OF WASHING TON. 

man by his side, as they passed through the primeval forest 
together. At the approach of night they kindled a fire, 
and scraping the snow from a fallen tree for their table, and 
cutting pieces of bark for plates, ate with a keen appetite 
their coarse supper. Then wrapping themselves in their 
blankets, with the snow for their couch, and the sparkling 
wintry heavens for their canopy, they lay down to sleep. 
With the first streak in gs of dawn they were again afoot, 
and through the blinding storm and under the trees that 
swayed and groaned in the fierce December blast, strained 
up the steep mountain sides, or threaded the dark gorges 
Avith unflagging spirits and undaunted hearts. On approach- 
ing a spot called Murdering Town, upon a fork of Beaver 
creek, they met an Indian, whom Gist was sure he had seen 
at Venango, and whose appearance was suspicious. He, 
however, seemed very friendly, was loquacious, asking many 
questions about the party behind, their horses, etc., and 
when they Avould be along. Major "Washington wished to 
go the shortest route to the forks of the Alleghanj-, and 
asked the Indian if he would be their guide. He readily 
consented, and taking the major's pack started off. But 
after travelinic eicrht or ten miles, Washins-ton declared that 
his feet was sore, his limbs weary, and he must halt. To 
this the Indian objected, grew churlish, and offered to carry 
WiLshington's gun, if he would go on. He said the Ottaway 
Indians occupied the woods, and if they laid out they would 
be scalped, and urged them to go to his cabin, from which 
he declared he just then heard a signal gun, where they 
would be safe. They kept on for awhile, but Washing- 
ton's experienced eye soon discovering that they were going 
the wrong couree, he became uneas}'- and remonstrated with 
him. The latter, to pacify him, barkened a moment, and 
then declared he heard two whoops from his cal)in. Wash- 
ington then went two miles farther on, when he declared 
that at the next water he came to he would halt. Before 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 37 

they reached it, however, they emerged into an open space^ 
on the even snow surface of which the bright moonlight lay. 
The Indian was some distance ahead, but kept his wary eye 
on his victims, and, as they stepped from the deep shadow 
of the forest into the clear light, suddenly turned and 
leveled his rifle. The next instant a quick, sharp report 
rang through the woods. Washington immediately cried 
out to Gist, " Are you shot ?" " No," replied the latter, 
and sprang towards the savage, who had leaped behind a 
big oak, and begun rapidly to reload his piece. Washing- 
ton reached the treacherous guide at the same time with 
Gist, but, instead of seizing him, stood by and saw him ram 
home a ball without manifesting any suspicion, pretending, 
•on the contrary, to believe that he considered the shot as a 
signal to those in his cabin. Gist then told Washington he 
must kill the traitor on the spot. The latter objected — ^he 
could not consent to murder the poor wretch there in cold 
blood, richly as he deserved such a fate. Gist replied that 
he must then be got away, and they travel all night. 

Their position had now become critical ; that rifle shot 
might have had a double purpose — to send one of them to 
his long account, and at the same time be a signal to com- 
panions near by, whose wild hoop might at any moment 
break on their startled ears. 

They, however, took the Indian with them, till they came 
to a little run of water, where they compelled him to make 
a fire. The guns were stacked against a tree, but eithei 
Gist or Washington always stood by them. The keen sav- 
age saw he was suspected, and grew uneasy. He still de- 
clared, however, that his cabin was but a little way off, and 
he could soon reach it. Gist then gave him bread, and told 
him to go home and fetch them some meat in the morning, 
while they, as they were tired, would encamp where they 
were. The fellow was glad to get off, and, shouldering his 
rifle, disappeared in the forest. Gist followed him stealthily 



38 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

some distance and then returned. The two adventurers then 
went on about half a mile and built a fire. By its light they 
set their compass, took their course, and started forward. 
Knowing that the Indians, if really in pursuit, would take 
their trail as soon as it was morning, they kept up a tre- 
mendous pace all night. Nor did they slacken it at day- 
light, except to snatch a mouthful of food, but, Aveary and 
sore as they were, traveled all day. Two days and a night 
on the stretch, without a path to guide them, was terrific 
■work ; but it was a matter of life and death, and they 
never halted till dark, when they struck the Alleghany river. 
They had expected to find this frozen over, and put it be- 
tween them and their pursuers before stopping ; but the ice 
extended only about one hundred and fifty feet from either 
shore, while the channel between was swollen and angry, 
and loaded with huge fragments of ice Avhich had broken 
loose from above. This abrupt termination of their jour- 
ney was heart-sickening enough ; and as the two weary 
travelers stood on the ice-bound shore and gazed on the ap- 
palling spectacle, they felt that the crisis of their fate had 
come. There was no escape, and if the savages continued 
their pursuit, they must fight them there, whatever their 
numbers might be. Nothing, however, was to be done, and 
wrapping themselves in their blankets, they lay down upon 
the snow and listened to the grinding, crushing sound of the 
ice as it drifted down in the gloom. The ear was constantly 
turned to catch the sound of approaching footsteps, while 
the lonely cries that rose from the forest combined to render 
the night long and dreary. At daylight they rose from 
their unriuiet, fitful slumbers and began to prepare a raft, 
on which they could fioat across. With but " one jDOor 
hatchet," to hew down the trees, they commenced their ar- 
duous task. Its tiny strokes made feeble echoes along that 
wintry stream, and it was night-fall before the raft was com- 
pleted. They then slid it on the ice to the edge, and, as it 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 30 

fell heavily in the water, jumpecl upon it. Caught by the 
current, it was whirled rapidly down. They had not 
proceeded far, however, before the descending fragments of 
ice so 'pressed upon and jammed it against other pieces, 
that it began to sink. Washington immediately struck his 
setting-pole heavily into the mud at the bottom, to arrest 
the raft till the ice crowded by. But the weight of the ice 
and raft together was so great, that, when the latter came 
in contact with the pole, Washington, who had grasped it 
firmly, was jerked over, and fell in ten feet water. He, 
however, succeeded in getting hold of one of the logs, and 
held on while the whole mass swept together down the 
stream. Their position now was perilous in the extreme — 
in the middle of the channel, carried resistlessly forward by 
the current and the ice, they could reach neither shore. 
Fortunately they drifted near a small island, when, as a 
last resort, they both abandoned the raft and made for it. 
Here on this mere rock, with an angry and turbulent river 
on either side, with no materials to construct a new raft, 
with no fire, wet to the skin, they were compelled to pass 
the long winter's night. To add to their discomfort, the 
night set in intensely cold, and it required the most un- 
wearied efforts and constant exercise to keep from freezing. 
As it was, Mr. Gist's hands and feet were both frozen, and 
Washington escaped only by his great powers of endur- 
ance, inherent in his constitution^ and strengthened by his 
long exposure in the woods and mountains. The frost, 
however, which well-nigh deprived them of life, proved 
their salvation, for it formed a bridge of ice between the 
island and eastern shore sufficiently strong to bear them.. 
Crossing cautiously on this, they the same day reached a 
trading post of Mr. Frazier, near the spot where afterward 
the battle of Monongahela was fought. Here they 
remained several days, to procure horses with which to 

continue their journey. In the mean time Washington 

3 



40 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

paid a visit to queen Aliquippa, residing near, avIio liad 
been very much offended that he did n(jt stop to see her 
on his outward journey. An ample apology, an overcoat, 
and a bottle of rum, especially the latter, restored her good 
humor. 

Leaving this trading post the second of January, 
Washington continued his journey on horseback. The 
intense cold, followed l)y rain storms, melted snow and 
swollen rivers, combined to render the termination of his 
route almost as painful as the middle portion of it, but after 
fifteen days of hard labor, he reached Williamsburg, having 
been absent in all eleven weeks. He had accomplished 
the task assigned him to the letter, and performed one of 
the most extraordinary expeditions on record. It is 
impossible, at this time, to conceive all the difficulties that 
beset it. But whether we take into consideration the time 
required to complete it, the country through which it led — 
a vast, untrodden Avilderness, crossed by mountain ranges, 
intersected by swollen rivers, and filled with lawless 
savages — or the season of the year selected — mid-winter — 
when the difficulties of the way were increased ten-fold by 
the deep snows, frosts, and sudden thaws, and incessant 
storms, or the long and dreadful exposures, borne without 
flinching, it certainly stands without a parallel in the 
history of our country. From first to last Washington had 
shown himself a most extraordinary young man. A mere 
stripling of twenty-one, he exhibited all the energy, self- 
reliance, endurance, tact, and courage of the most 
experienced man and veteran. As one in imagination 
beholds him in his Indian dress, his pack on his back, his 
•gun in his hand, stealing through the snow-covered forest 
•at midnight, or plunging about in the wintry stream in the 
■struggle for life, or, wrapped in his blanket, sleeping beside 
the ice-fdlcd river, lulled by its sullen roar, he cannot but 
feel that he beholds a being whom angels guarded through 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 41 

the terrible training which can alone fit him for the great 
duties and trials that await him. 

Washington was highly complimented for the manner in 
which he had executed the commission that had been 
entrusted to him. His journal was printed and copied in 
the colonial newspapers. The English government at 
home had it reprinted, for it possessed peculiar value, 
inasmuch as it was the first clear exposition of the designs 
of the French on this continent, and the first reliable 
information respecting their past movements. Washington 
had ascertained, not only how matters stood on the Ohio 
and the lakes, but also obtained accurate information of the 
number and strength of their posts and garrisons at the 
mouth of the Mississippi. The extraordinary character of 
their claims, demanding all the territory washed by the 
Mississippi and its branches, aroused the English govern- 
ment to the necessity of immediate action. 



42 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTON, 



CHAPTER n. 

Washington sent against the French — Ilostilities of the latter — Fort Duquesne — 
Difflcultics of the March — Dangerous Explorations — Message from the Half- 
King — Night March — Attack on Junionville — Feelings of Washington in his 
First Battle — Final ResulUi of it— Fort Necessity — Battle of the Great Meadows — 
Washington Capitulates — Resigns in disgust his Commission — Tart Refusal to 
join the Army under Governor Sharpe — Accepts Braddock's Reqnest to act as 
Volunteer Aid — Is taken Sick — Joins the Army— Battle of Monongahela — 
Bravery of Washington — The Retreat — Death of Braddock — Washingtt)n reads 
the Funeral Service — Burial by Torch-light — Scenes around Fort Duquesne — 
Demoniacal Jubilee of the Indians — Washington at Mount Vernon — Disgust 
with tiic GoTernment — Appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Virginia Forces — 
Head-quarters at Winchester — Inroads of the Indians — Terror of the Settlers — 
Sternness of Washington — False Rumors — DiflRculty with Captain Dagworthy — 
Goes to Boston to refer it to Governor Shirley — Reception on the way — Falls in 
lore with Miss Piiillips of New York — His Return. 

Immediately on the return of Washington, Governor 
Dmwiddie called his council together and laid before it the 
letter of the French commander, and the report of his 
commissioners. It was resolved at once to repel this 
mvasion of the king's dominions by force of arms. To 
effect this, an enlistment of two companies of one hundred 
men each was advised, who should proceed without delay 
to the Ohio, and erect a fort on its banks. If there were 
not a sufficient number of volunteers to make up the 
quota, drafts were ordered to be made on the militia. 
Washington was appointed commander of this small force, 
the chief object of which was to bisect the operations of the 
French, and prevent them from completing their chain of 
posts from Canada to New Orleans. ITc was stationed at 
Alexandria to enlist recruits and dispatch forwan.1 the 
cannon for the fort which the Ohio company had agreed te 
build. 

* The Legislature met in February, 1754, but the feelings 
of the members were not at all in harmonv with ih* 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 43 

warlike spirit of the governor — indeed some of tlieni de- 
clared they could not see what right England had to those 
lands. The loyal old governor " fired at this," to think 
that " an English Legislature should presume to doubt the 
right of his Majesty to tjie back of his dominions." Ten 
thousand pounds, however, were voted for the defense of 
the colony, which gave the governor great satisfaction, but 
his ire was again aroused when commissioners were ap- 
pointed to superintend the disbursement of this fund. He 
nevertheless went diligently to work, and ordered four more 
companies to be raised, making six in all. Colonel Joshua 
Fry was appointed commander of these, with Washington 
raised to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, his second in com- 
mand. The governor was authorized to call for two inde- 
pendent companies from New York, and one from South 
Carolina. These were immediately sent for, and in the 
meantime the cheering news came from North Carolina that 
she would soon have a force in the field to help repel the 
common invader. 

Washington having completed two companies, in all one 
hundred and fifty, self-willed, ungovernable men, left Alex- 
andria in April, and marched for the Ohio, where he was 
ordered to complete the fort there which a party of men, 
under Captain Trent, were erecting, and to make prisoners, 
kill and destroy all who interrupted the English settlements. 
His march was slow and difficult, and before he reached 
Will's Creek, the French had descended from Venango, and 
summoned the force under Captain Trent to surrender. The 
latter was absent, but Ensign Ward, then in command, 
agreed to give up the fort if he was permitted to retire 
with his troops. This was acceded to, and the French took 
possession, and immediately set about strengthening the 
works. The trees were felled around the fort, which they 
named Du Quesne, barracks of bark were thrown up, and 
before the smoke of the burning trees had scarcely cleared 



44 LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 

away, corn and wheat were springing up, and the first 
foundation of Pittsburgh w^as laid. 

Immediately on the reception of this alarming news 
Washington sent off expresses to the governors of Virginia, 
Pennsylvania and Maryland for reinforcements, and then 
called a council of war. Beset with difficulties, liable at any 
moment to ])e surrounded and cut off, he nevertheless re- 
solved to push boldly forward, and, if possible, reach the 
Monon«T^ahela and erect a fortification. With his little force 
swelled to three hundred men, he entered the forest and 
began to cut his way through the wilderness. This was 
slow and tedious, for all the deep streams had to be bridged, 
the swamps filled up, dug- ways made along the sides of the 
mountains, and a grade and smoothness obtained sufficient 
to allow the passage of baggage-wagons. Reaching at 
length the Youghogany, a halt was made, till a bridge could 
Ije built across the stream. Being told here by some Indians 
that the river was navigable to its junction with boats, 
Washington took with him five men and proceeded down, 
to ascertain if it were so. The navigation of the stream 
proved extremely perilous, for he got entangled amid rocks 
and shoals, and w^as borne through dangerous rapids. At 
length, however, he entered a gorge made by two high pre- 
cipitous mountains, where the stream, compressed between 
the cliffs, became very deep, and, ceasing its tortuous course, 
flowed in a straijrht, rapid current on. Borne swiftlj and 
smoothly along, Washington proceeded for ten miles, when 
he vdinc to a fall. This abruptly terminated his explora- 
tions, and he returned to his army. He had scarcely reached 
it, when a string of wampum was received from his old 
friend, the Half-King, telling him tliat the French were ad- 
vancing, and saying, " Come soon, or we are lost, and shall 
never meet again. I speak it in the grief of my heart." 
Washington immediately ordered the troops under arms, 
and pushed forward. Without tents, scantily supplied with 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 45 

clothes and provisions, encamping under the open sky, 
pelted by the rains, fording the streams, and wearily drao-- 
ging their cannon after them, they marched slowly on, 
while insubordination and complaints swelled the evils that 
encompassed the young commander. On the 25th another 
message was received from the Half-King, saying, " Be on 
your guard ; the French army intend to strike the first Eng- 
lish whom they shall see." The same day a second mes- 
senger entered the camp, reporting that the French were 
but eighteen miles distant. Ignorant of their number, or 
from what point they would attack, he hastened to the 
Great Meadows, an open plain between two ridges, covered 
with grass and low bushes. Near the centre, where it was 
about three hundred yards wide, and beside a rivulet that 
flowed through it, he hastily threw up an intrenchment, and 
prepared to meet the enemy. As he looked around and 
saw what a broad interval lay between his rude works and 
the covering forest, he felt satisfied with the spot he had 
selected, declaring it was a " charming field for an en- 
counter." In the mean time he sent out some men on the 
wagon-horses to reconnoitre, and all eyes were directed to- 
ward the forest, in constant expectation of seeing them 
burst into the opening, bringing the enemy with them. But 
they returned without having seen any traces of the in- 
vaders. In the night, however, the sentries became alarmed, 
and fired their pieces. In a moment the little camp was in 
commotion, and the troops stood to their arms till morning. 
Soon after daylight a single man was seen moving across 
the plain toward the fort. This was Gist, who reported 
the French near by. The day wore on without further 
cause of alarm; but at nine o'clock at night the camp was 
again thrown into a state of excitement, by the arrival of a 
messenger from the Half-King, who lay with his warriors 
about six miles distant, reporting that the French detach- 
ment was Ciose by him. It was pitch-dark, and the rain 



46 LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 

fell in torrents, but young Washington, as he stood by the 
fire listening to the statement of the swarthy messenger, 
forgot both, and instantly selecting forty of his best men, 
started for the camp of the Half-King. Utter blackness 
filled the forest, and it was impossible to keep the right di- 
rection. Stumbling over the rocks and fallen trees, the 
little band staggered about in the darkness, the pattering of 
the rain-drops above and their constant dripping on the 
foliage Ijelow the only sounds that broke the surrounding 
stillness, save when the musket-barrel of some poor fellow, 
tripping in the gloom, rung against a tree or rock, or the 
low words of command fell from their intrepid leader, 
as he felt his way toward his first battle. They wandered 
about in the woods all night, and did not reach the camp 
of the Half-King till sunrise. A short council was then 
held, in which it was resolved to send forward two Indian 
scouts to ascertain the precise locality of the French. Fol- 
lowing up the trail, these soon discovered the enemy con- 
cealed among the rocks. Streaming along in Indian file, 
Washington, with his savage allies, at length came in sight 
of the i^arty. The latter, immediately on discovering the 
hostile approach, seized their arms and prepared to resist. 
" Fire !" cried Washington, and at the same moment dis- 
charged his musket. A rapid volley followed, and for fif- 
teen minutes it was sharp work. Jumonville, the French 
commander, and ten of his men were killed, and twenty- 
two taken prisoners. The remamder fled. Washington had 
but one man killed and three wounded. It was his first 
battle, and the excitement was naturally great. In speak- 
ing of it afterward, he said, " I heard the bullets whistling, 
and believe me, there is something charming in the sound." 
In this first trial lie showed the metal he was made of, and 
although the sj)cech smacks of bravado it reveals the ardor 
and enthusiasm, without which the soldier never excels in 
his profession. 




1>EATH OF Jl-JIONVILL 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 49 

Probably there never before turned such vast conse- 
quences on a single musket-shot as on that fired by Wash- 
ington in the commencement of this skirmish. Its echo 
went round the globe ; it was the signal-gun breaking up 
the councils and diplomatic meetings of Europe, and sum- 
moning the two greatest powers of the world to arms to 
struggle for a continent. It began the long war which 
drove France out of America, and made a warlike people 
of the colonists, who were jealous of their rights. When 
the revolutionary struggle afterward commenced France was 
but too glad to help despoil England of the rich possessions 
of which the latter had robbed her, and saw with undis- 
guised pleasure an independent government rise on these 
shores. But the French army, in helping republicanism, 
became republican, and scattered the doctrine of human 
rights throughout France. Her bloody revolution was the 
result. Met by the feudalism of Europe, it went rolling 
over the French borders, deluging the continent in its rash 
flow. The shout of the oppressed masses was heard rising 
amid the din of battle, and the low and threatening under- 
tone of their mutterings makes monarchs at this day turn 
pale on their thrones, while the end is not yet. 

What a long and frightful train of events that single shot 
set in motion. When the news reached France, it threw 
both government and people into a state of high excitement. 
War had begun, and the name of Washington was heard 
for the first time in the saloons of Paris, and loaded with 
opprobrium. His attack was declared base and wicked, and 
Jumonville was regarded as the victim of assassination. A 
poem was written to commemorate his sad fate, and Wash- 
ington was looked upon as no better than a robber. It was 
asserted that Jumonville was on a peaceful mission, and had 
begun to read the summons he bore, when Washington fired 
upon him. This was false, and expressly declared so by 
the latter. The fact that Jumonville was intrusted with a 



50 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

summons commanding the English to evacuate the territory, 
does not make his mission a peaceful one. Besides, he did 
not advance like one on a friendly errand, but lay skulking 
about with an armed force. Washington, when sent by 
Dinwiddie to the French, took only necessary guides. If, 
witli a bodv of troojis, he had lain for days about the fort, 
and Mhen assailed had made no effort at explanation, but 
continued to fight till overpowered, it would have been per- 
fectly absurd to pretend that he was on a peaceful mission. 
Still, French writers denounced Washington unsparingly, 
and to this day pronounce his attack unlawful and wicked. 
But the l)hime, whether nmch or little, rested on Governor 
Dinwiddie, not on himself, for the former had directed him 
to drive the French from the English territory, and he had 
been sent out with an armed force for that express purpose. 
lie could not have done otherwise than obey the orders of 
the government. The fact that war had not been declared 
could make no difference, for the French had already com- 
menced hostilities, by investing an^English fort and forcing 
the garrison to capitulate. To expect Washington to sit 
still and see a second taken without striking a blow, would 
be absurd. 

The latter, knowing that as soon as the news of his attack 
on Jumonville should reach Fort Du Quesne, a heavier force 
would l)e sent against him, retired at once to his little fort, 
which he named Fort Necessity. 

But while compelled to prepare for the exigencies grow- 
ing out of a superior force in his front, he had also to con- 
tend witli the insubordination of his troops, especially tlie 
oflicers, whose pay had been reduced so low, that it Avould 
not meet their necessary expenses, and who, indignant at 
the meanness of the government, declared they would iro 
homo and leave the arm}^ to take care of itself Washing- 
ton, in this dilemma, put on the " hypocrite as far as he 
could," and endeavored to convince them it was better and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 51 

more honorable to remain where they were, while at the 
same time he wrote to Governor Dinwiddie, stating the 
feeUngs of the officers, and remonstrating boldly against the 
insane policy which made them inferior to the king's 
officers. He declared that, so far as he was concerned, it 
was not the smallness of the pay that made him indignant, 
but the injustice and dishonor of this invidious distinction, 
while in fact the sei'vices he and his fellow officers were re- 
quired to perform, were enormous and hazardous in the ex- 
treme. " For my own part," said he, " it is a matter almost 
indiffijrent whether I serve for full pay, or as a generous 
volunteer. Indeed, did my circumstances correspond with 
my inclinations, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer 
the latter ; for the motives that have led me here are pure 
and noble." Here, in the midst of the forest, liable at any 
moment to be struck down, by an act of executive authority, 
he nevertheless kindles into stern indignation against the 
wrong committed by that authority, and demands a recog- 
nition of those claims of his officers and men, which he 
deems to be just and honorable. 

While thus surrounded by a murmuring army — threat- 
ened by a superior enemy, and destitute of the necessary 
provisions for his detachment, he received word of the death 
of his senior in rank, Colonel Fry, at Will's Creek. He was 
now commander-in-chief. But soon after, an independent 
company from South Carolina arrived, commanded by Cap- 
tain Mackay, who, having a royal commission, ranked 
Washington. Here a new difficulty arose, and had not 
Mackay been a thorough gentleman, it would have been a 
serious one. The latter, however, contented himself with 
a mild refusal to obey the colonel's orders, and with his one 
hundred men encamped by himself, Washington, foresee- 
ing the embarrassment in which this divided command 
would place the entire force, wrote to Governor Dinwiddie 
to settle the difficulty by a direct explicit order. The latter 



62 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

refused to take the responsibility of deciding on so grave a 
matter as avIio should command four hundred men ; and 
"Washington, m order to avoid a quarrel, determined with 
his troops to leave the fort and advance to the Mononga- 
hela, Avhile Captain Mackay remained at Fort Necessity. 
The nearest practicable route to Gist's settlement, thirteen 
miles distant, was through a terrific mountain gorge. Com- 
pelled to hew and dig a road that would admit the trans- 
portation of cannon, beset by friendly Indians, delayed by 
their troublesome councils and importunities, and deceived 
by spies, he occupied two wrecks in making this short 
march. 

Having at length arrived there, Washington sent out 
scouts, who kept him informed of all the movements at Fort 
Du Quesne. Being at length convinced that large rein- 
forcements had arrived from Canada, he called a council ot 
war, to determine what course should be pursued. At first 
it was resolved to make a stand where they were, and a 
fortification was commenced, and a messenger dispatched to 
Mackay to hasten forward. The latter, like a true soldier, 
immediately marched to their relief; when another council 
was called, in which it was decided that, the enem}^ being 
in such heavy force, it would be more prudent to retreat. 
This was no easy matter, and at the same time drag nine 
swivels over the rough road that lay between the settlement 
and Fort Necessity. There were but few horses, and those 
comparatively worthless, so that soldiers were compelled to 
man the drag-ropes. To set a good example, and encourage 
and render cheerful the men, Washington gave up his own 
horse to carry the public stores, and paid the soldiers for 
transporting his necessary baggage. By dint of great labor 
they got back to the Great Meadows in two days. They 
could, however, go no farther, for they had been without 
bread eight days, and, wear}^ and half-famished, found only 
two b;igs of flour at the fort. The want of horses and pro- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 63 

visions, together with the news that two New York compa- 
nies had twenty days before arrived at Alexandria, and 
hence must now be very near them, induced Washington 
to order a halt, and begin to intrench himself as best he 
might where he was. An express was sent to these New 
York companies to hurry forward, and every effort put forth 
to strengthen the impromptu works of Fort Necessity. 

At length, on the morning of the 30th of July, a mus- 
ket-shot was heard, and soon after a sentinel, who had been 
wounded by the enemy, came limping in. Scouts who had 
been sent out returned breathless with haste, saying that 
the enemy, nine hundred strong, was only four miles dis- 
tant. This was stirring news, and Washington immediately 
drew up his little band of four hundred outside the trenches, 
and gave the orders not to fire till the enemy was close 
enough to let their volleys tell. At eleven o'clock the 
French approached, but halted when six hundred yards dis- 
tant and commenced firing. Washington, after receiving 
their fire for some time, and seeing that they had no inten- 
tion of attempting to carry the works by assault, as he 
expected, marched his men in again, and told them to fire 
when and how they pleased. That little breast- work was 
soon blazing with the irregular volleys. The French how- 
ever remained at such a distance, and were so sheltered by 
the trees, that but little execution was done. The rain fell 
in torrents all day, drenching both armies and filling the 
trenches round the fort with water. This, however, did 
not cool the combatants, and a sharp fire was kept up the 
whole day, and, as twilight deepened over the dripping 
forest, its dark arcades were lit up by incessant flashes. 
But at eight in the evening the French called a parley, and 
requested an officer to be sent to them. Vonbraam, a 
Dutchman, being the only one that could speak French, was 
dispatched, and soon returned with a paper containing 
articles of capitulation. Washington and his officers knew 



04 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

it would be impossible to hold out long against their adver- 
saries, for the latter could starve them into submission in a 
short time, and, as the terms proposed were honorable, he 
accepted them. He and his band were allowed to march 
out of the fort with drums beating and colors flying, and 
retire without molestation to the settlements, taking every- 
thing with them but the artillery. Washington, on the 
other hand, agreed to restore the prisoners taken in his 
attack on Jumonville, and not build any more forts west of 
the mountains for a year. These articles, when they were 
afterward published, were severely criticised. They con- 
tained things Washington should not have consented to, and 
of which he was entirely ignorant at the time of the capitu- 
lation. The Dutch interpreter had intentionally, or through 
ignorance, deceived him. When he returned with the 
articles of capitulation it was raining so heavily, that a 
candle could with great difficulty be kept burning while he 
gave a free translation. Under the circumstances a written 
translation could not be made, and Washington had to 
depend on the faithfulness of the verbal one. In this 
nothing was said respecting the erection of forts " west of 
the Alle^hanies,^' but the specification on that point was ren- 
dered not to attempt building or improvements on the lands 
belonging to the French king. To this general promise there 
could be no objection, as no limits were designated. Again, 
in the written articles the ** death of Jumonville " was called 
an '' assassination;" whWc the interpreter used the former 
expression in translating them. 

Twelve of Washington's command were killed and forty- 
three wounded. The former he buried in the forest, and 
with the latter took up his weary march back to the 
settlements. 

The governor and council approved his course, and the 
House of Burges-ses, when it assembled, passed a vote of 
thanks to him and his officers. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 55 

Wasliington rejoined his regiment at Alexandria, where 
he was ordered to fill up the diminished companies and 
march to Will's creek, to join Colonel Innies, who was then 
building Fort Cumberland. In short the ardent governor 
had planned a winter campaign, in a country where there 
were no roads, no supplies, no forts, expecting it to be car- 
ried forward by troops without arms, ammunition, provisions 
or tents. Washington told him the thing was absolutely 
impossible, and the order was countermanded. 

The Assembly when it met voted twenty thousand 
pounds for the public service. This, with ten thousand sent 
over by the English government, put Dinwiddle in funds 
again, and he set about enlarging the army, by the addition 
of ten comj)anies of a hundred men each. These were to 
be independent, and the officers of them to rank those of 
the same grade in the Virginia regiment, while the highest 
officers of the latter were reduced to captains. Resenting 
this degradation as a personal insult, Washington threw up 
his commission and left the army. 

Shortly after, Governor Sharpe of Maryland, being 
appointed commander-in-chief of the forces destined to act 
against the French, solicited Washington to take his place 
again in the army, hinting that he might retain his old 
commission. The latter took fire at this, and wrote a tart 
reply to the governor, saying, " If you think me capable of 
holding a commission that has neither rank nor emolument 
annexed to it, you must entertain a very contemptible 
opinion of my weakness, and beUeve me to be more empty 
than the commission itself." 

It was with deep regret that he gave up his profession, 
for he was exceedingly attached to it, and was ambitious of 
military distinction, He did not, however, long remain 
idle, for the next spring [March 15th, 1754] General Brad- 
dock arrived from England, with two regiments of regular 
troops. These were expected to crush all opposition and 



50 LIFE OF TVASHINGTON. 

sweep tliG French from the frontiers. Washmgton, -who 
had thus far efiected all that had been done, was requested 
by Braddock to form one of his staff, holding his former 
rank in the army. To this he acceded, solely, as he 
avowed, for the purpose of serving his country ; for he 
expected no emoluments, whatever the result of the expedi- 
tion might be, as he had resolved to accept no commission 
from Braddock. 

The march of this army of more than two thousand men 
was looked upon as the forerunner of the certain and utter 
destruction of the French, and a subscription paper was 
actually circulated in Philadelphia to raise money for the 
celebration of the victory on its return. 

Wasliington joined it at Winchester, and was received in 
a flattering manner by the officers. The army then started 
for the interior, and reached Will's creek about the middle 
of May. Soon after Washington was sent to AVilliamsburg 
to procure money. On his return the main body was put 
in motion, advancing slowly, dragging its artillery with 
difficulty over the uneven roads, and stretching for four 
miles through the forest, as if on purpose to invite an 
attack. Washington urged on Braddock the necessity of 
greater dispatch, and began already to feel uneasiness at the 
unwieldiness of this straggling army ; he even gave up his 
own horse to assist in transporting the baggage.. 

At last he was taken sick with a fever, which raged with 
more or less violence for fourteen days. At the expiration 
of that time, he endeavored to overtake the army. Unable 
to sit on a horse, he rode in a covered wagon, but tlie 
jolting so distressed him that he was compelled to stop on 
the road, under the charge of a guard. Ilis restlessness 
under this delay was very great, and nothing but the 
solemn promise of General Braddock that he should be 
brought up before the attack on the French at Fort Du 
Quesne was made, quieted him. To have the finishing bat- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 57 

tie take place and he not present, was a thought he could 
not endure. 

At length, though in a weak, exhausted condition, he 
came up with the army, on the last of June, at the Great 
Crossing, a few days before the battle of Monongahela. 
On the morning of the 9th of July, Braddock forded the 
Monongahela, just below the junction of the Youghogany, 
and moved in beautiful order, to the sound of stirring 
music, along the bank of that quiet stream — the scarlet 
uniforms of the soldiers contrasting richly with the wealth 
of green on every side. As Washington's eye fell on this 
military pageant, new to him, and saw nearly two thousand 
bayonets iiashing in the morning sunbeams, and moving in 
steady undulations over the plain, as to the tread of a 
smgle man, while the summer forest echoed to the roll of 
the drum and bugle blast, his young heart kindled with 
enthusiasm, and he declared it was the most glorious spec- 
tacle he ever beheld. 

About noon the army again waded the Monongahela, and 
began to move over tlie triangle toward the forks of the 
two rivers, where, seven miles distant, they united to form 
the Ohio. A detachment of three hundred and fifty men, 
under Lieutenant-Colonel Gage, was sent in advance, 
attended by a working party of two hundred and fifty more. 
Braddock followed with the artillery, the main army, and 
baggage. The French had selected an admirable place for 
an ambuscade. A gentle slojDe, gashed by two ravines that 
extended from top to bottom on either side, covered with 
trees and long grass, furnished a secure hiding place, while 
at the same time, it enabled them to pour a double flank 
fire on the ascending force. Suddenly, while Gage was 
moving up this gentle slope, along a path only twelve feet 
wide, a close and deadly volley smote his uncovered ranks. 
Volley after volley followed in quick succession, and 
encircled with fire, rolling on them from an unseen foe, the 

4 



58 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

soldiers broke and fled down the hill, Falling on the artil- 
lery and baggage, struggling up from below, they threw 
these into confusion also, Braddock endeavored in vain to 
restore order. The fire, which seemed to issue from the 
bowels of the earth, closed on them closer and deadlier 
every moment, and the ranks melted away like frost-work. 
The Virginia regiment wished to take to the trees, and fight 
the Indians in their own fashion, but Braddock forbade 
them and endeavored to form close columns, -which only 
allowed death to traverse his ranks with more ra]:)id foot- 
steps. Confused by this new mode of fighting, and by the 
unearthly yells of the Indians, the regular troops lost all 
discipline — they fired wildly, without seeing the enemy, 
and would not obey their officers. A few discharges of 
grape up those ravines would have forced the enemy from 
their place of concealment, or a single steady charge of 
bayonets, scattered the Indians in aftright. But neither 
•was done, and for more than two hours those bewildered 
troops were held by their officers to that fatal spot, only to 
be shot down. Braddock had five liorses killed under him 
in succession, and at length was hurled to the ground b}- a 
ball through his lungs. The officers struggled bravely, 
charging together like common infantry, to stimulate their 
followers to bear up against the storm, and presented a sub- 
lime spectacle of devotion on that ill-fated field. Brad- 
dock's two aids were borne wounded from the battle, 
leaving Washington alone to distribute orders. Here his 
military qualities shone forth in their greatest splendor. 
Tliough pale and feeble, he forgot his exhausted condition 
in the excitement of the moment, and with his fine face lit 
up with the fire of enthusiasm, he galloped through the 
disordered host, his tall form presenting a constant mark to 
the sharp-shooters, whose bullets rattled like Iiail-stones 
around him. Men were falling on every side, almost entire 
•companies at a time, yet reckless of danger he spurred his 



LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 59 

steed over the dead and dying alike, straining every nerve 
to save the battle and the army. Two horses were shot 
under him, but he rose each time from the earth unharmed. 
Four balls joassed through his coat. An ol^ chief singled 
him out and bade his young braves do the same, but after 
striving in vain to hit him, became alarmed, and told his 
men to desist from firing at one who was plainly under the 
care of the great Manitou. Cool and self-possessed the 
young aid stood like a rock on that turbulent field, and to 
see him endeavor to stem the panic and disorder, one would 
have thought he had been tried in a hundred battles, than 
of being, as he was, in his first field fight. 

Of eighty-six officers, sixty-three had fallen ; while half 
the entire army was stretched on the field. Of three Vir- 
ginia companies, only thirty men were left standing, and 
scarcely a single officer remained unwounded. "Washington 
saw his brave Virginians thus uselessly sacrificed with a 
bursting heart. But faithful to the orders given them, they 
formed a glorious example to the cowardly regulars, on 
whom threats, entreaties, and the noble devotion of their 
officers were alike thrown away. At length the turbulent 
mass turned in flight, and over the dead and dying, and 
over their own cannon, went streaming along the road like 
a herd of frightened animals. All the provision and bag- 
gage, even the general's private papers, were left behind in 
the panic. Washington rode hither and thither, endeavor- 
ing to rally a rear-guard, but was borne helplessly along in 
the living torrent. Braddock was carried from the field in 
a tumbril, but being unable to bear the motion, was trans- 
ferred to a litter and hurried forward. All day long he 
never spoke, but at night he seemed to rouse for a moment, 
■and exclaimed in amazement, " Who ivould have thought it?'' 
Beaching Dunbar's camp, the panic was communicated to 
the garrison there, and burning the public stores and bag- 
gage, and destroying the artillery, the entu-e army fleeing 



60 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

from its own shadow streamed on through the forest. Life 
was fast ebbing away from the stunned and discomfited 
general, and ho lay in a half stupor ; as if struggling with 
some dreadful dream. At night he at length roused again, 
saying, " We shall better know how to deal with them 
another time." But he had done with all future time, and 
was already entering that calm world where the sound of 
battle never comes. The litter on which he lay was set 
down, and his remaining officers gathered sadly around it. 
As a last token of gratitude to his young volunteer aid, for 
his noble devotion and heroism, he gave him a splendid 
charger and his own body servant. A brief farewell — a 
flint gasp — a weak struggle — and Braddock lay a corpse in 
the forest. A grave was hastily dug in the centre of the 
road, to conceal it from the Indians, into which, with his 
sword lain across his breast, he was lowered. Young Wash- 
ington read the funeral service by torchlight over him, the 
deep tones of his voice interrupted only by the solemn 
amen of the surrounding officers. The motionless torch- 
bearers — the encircling forest, with its dimly lighted corri- 
dors — the long line of receding bayonets flashing in the 
light — the uncovered officers — the open grave, and beside 
it the pale face of the sleeper, combined to form a scene at 
once picturesque and most solemn. A mark was left to 
designate the spot, and the army again defiled through the 
wilderness. Alone, the defeated warrior lay in his rude 
grave, safe from the mortification and anguish that awaited 
him in the settlements and in the army. The place of his 
burial can still be seen, a little oJ0f from the national road, 
and about a mile from Fort Necessity. 

All this time a far different scene was passing around 
Fort Du Quesne. Tlie Indian allies of the French were 
frantic with joy, for never before had they reaped such a 
rich harvest of white men. The slope up which Braddock 
had attempted to force his way was literally crowded with 




DEFEAT OF BRADDOCK. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 63 

the dead and wounded, the scarlet uniforms of whom con- 
trasted brightly with the green grass over which they were 
sprinkled. The tomahawk was soon crushing through skulls 
in which the brain still throbbed with life, and the scalp- 
ing-knife glancing around the heads of those already dead. 
At night the woods surrounding the fort exhibited a perfect 
Pandemonium. The exultant yells and frantic movements 
of the Indians as they danced and shouted together, 
shaking their bloody arms and knives above their heads, 
the heavy explosions of the cannon from the fort, mingling 
in with the incessant discharge of small arms without, com- 
bined to form one of the most frightful exhibitions the eye 
ever rests upon. The next day the savages painted them- 
selves in the most gaudy colors, and, dressed in the scarlet 
uniforms of the soldiers and the rich aj)parel and cha- 
peaux of the officers, paraded around the fort in ludicrous 
ostentation. 

The English army at length reached the settlements, 
sending consternation and affright through the colonies, and 
"Washington retired to Mount Vernon. 

It was well for Braddock that he reposed in the forest, 
for it would have been worse than death to have met the 
deep and utter condemnation of the peojDle. But from the 
general obloquy that fell on nearly all connected with this 
ill-fated expedition, Washington was not only exempted, but 
received laudations innumerable. His gallantry, his chival- 
ric bearing, and his miraculous escape, were the theme of 
every tongue. Said Davis, a distinguished clergyman, in 
referring to this defeat in a sermon, " I point out that 
heroic youth. Colonel Washington, whom I cannot hut hope 
Providence has preserved, in so signal a manner, for some im- 
portant service to his country." A remarkable prophecy, 
as thus uttered from the pulpit. " Who," said Lord Hali- 
fax, in a letter to a friend, " is Mr. Washington ? I 
know nothing of him, but that they say he behaved in 



64 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Braddock's action as bravely as though he really loved 
the whistling of bullets." 

Either Washington's conduct during this campaign has 
been most imiDcrfectly given, or he at this early age joos- 
sessed that strange power over others which later m life 
formed one of his great characteristics. He was only a 
provincial officer and a volunteer, and it was not merely 
because he behaved gallantly in battle, like all the rest, that 
his dying commander bequeathed to him his faithful ser- 
vant, or that his superiors selected him as the most fitting 
officer to act as chaplain. His bearing, language, actions, 
all must have possessed extraordinary attractions. 

Disgusted with the ignominious termination of Brad- 
dock's campaign, still feeble and wasted from his five weeks' 
fever, followed, as it had been, by such exhausting labors 
and mental anxiety, Washington hailed the quiet retreat of 
Mount Vernon with the pleasure that the long tost mariner 
greets the sight of land. Nothing but a frame of prodi- 
gious strength, and a constitution to match it, could have 
carried him through what he had undergone. But on the 
tranquil shores of the Potomac, his health gradually 
recruited, yet for a time he seemed little inclined to enter 
again the stormy scenes into which he had been thrown for 
the last two years. He was now but twenty- three years of 
age, and yet had passed through vicissitudes and trials 
sufficient for a lifetime. 

He was not, however, long allowed to lay becalmed in 
the Ijay where he had sought shelter. His conduct in the 
battle of Monongahela, coupled with his former services, 
made him the most marked military man in the colony, and 
pointed him out as the proper leader of its forces. 

The Assembly was in session at this time, in Williams- 
burg, and several of the members, one being his elder 
brother, wrote him, requesting his presence there, as it 
would facilitate a plan they had formed to get him the 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 65 

appointment of commander-in-chief of the forces of the 
colony. To these invitations Washington replied, that if 
there were no other reasons to prevent his complying, his 
health alone would be a sufficient excuse, as it was with the 
utmost difficulty he could ride over his different plantations. 
To his brother he wrote that he was always willing to ren- 
der his country any service he was capable of, but never 
upon the terms he had done — impairing his fortune, and 
ruining the " best of constitutions," and receiving nothing 
but neglect in return. Said he, " I was emplojed to go a 
journey in the winter, when I believe few or none would 
have undertaken it — and what did I get by it ? Mi/ ex- 
penses borne! I then was appointed, with trifling pay, to 
conduct a handful of men to the Ohio. AYliat did I get by 
that ?• Why, after putting myself to a considerable expense 
in equipping and providing necessaries for the campaign, I 
went out, was soundly beaten, and lost them all ! came in 
and had my commission taken from me, or in other words, 
my command reduced, under pretence of an order from 
home ! I then went out a volunteer with General Brad- 
dock, lost all my horses, and many other things. But this 
being a voluntary act, I ought not to have mentioned it, 
nor should I have done it, were it not to show that I have 
been on the losing order ever since I entered the service, 
which is now nearly two years." A sorry picture, truly, 
of his past experience ; and the young and fiery commander, 
now thoroughly aroused, will have nothing more to do with 
a- government so reckless of his rights and so destitute of 
common justice. His indignation at the course it has pur- 
sued, at length finds utterance, and he will no longer be 
made the plaything of power. 

To Warner Lewis, another member who had written him 
on the same subject, he declared he would never accept the 
command if tendered, unless something certain was secured 
to him, and he was allowed to designate who should be his 



(jQ LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

subordinate officers. He ■would not again put liiuisolf in 
positions where his life and honor depended on the behavior 
of his officers, unless he could have the selection of them. 
A small military chest, he also considered indispensable to 
the proper management of military affiiirs. 

In the meantime, however, his appointment had been 
made out. Forty thousand pounds were voted for the pub- 
lic service ; three hundred pounds to Washington, and 
a2)propriate sums to the subordinate officers. It was re- 
solved to increase the Virginia regiment to sixteen com- 
panies, and grant to Washington all that he had demanded, 
besides giving him an aid-de-camp and secretary. As soon 
as the news of his appointment reached him, he set off 
for Williamsburg, notwithstanding his feeble health, to con- 
sult with the governor about future operations. He was 
too sick to ride a hundred and sixty miles to beg for office, 
but not to fulfill its duties when given him. He was too 
sick in the Alleghany mountains to have traveled back to 
his home, wdiere he could find comfort and good nursing, 
but not too sick to hurry forward to the battle of Monon- 
gahela, and rage like a lion over the lost field. He never 
was too sick to do his duty or to save his country. 

Havuig settled upon a plan with the governor, Washing- 
ton immediately made every department of the military 
organization of the state feel his energy. Fixing his head- 
quarters at Winchester, he sent out recruiting officers to fill 
up his regiment, the estimates of which he sent to the gov- 
ernor, and then once more turned his horse's head toward 
the Alleghany mountains, which from bojdiood had been 
the scene of his thrilling adventures. Once more, elate 
with hope, he entered their rugged passes, and going from 
post to post, visited every one on the frontier from Fort 
''Dinwiddie, on Jackson's river, to Fort Cumberland. He 
observed every thing, learned every thing to be gained, and 
'ssucd orders to each in turn. lie then stai'tcd for AVil 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 67 

liamsburg, to consult with the governor, but had proceeded 
only a part of the way when he was overtaken by an express 
declaring that the Indians had suddenly burst ujDon the 
settlements, murdered the inhabitants, blocked up the ran- 
gers in small fortresses, and were spreading devastation and 
terror on every side. He immediately galloped back to 
Winchester, summoned the militia, called on the recruits to 
hasten to head-quarters, and soon had a respectable force 
under his command. The report, however, was exagge- 
rated, but nothing could allay the terror of the inhabitants, 
who swarmed in droves across the valley between the Blue 
Ridge and the Alleghanies; many not stopping till they 
had j)ut the last mountain barrier between them and the 
enemy. 

The colonies, at this early period, were so tenacious of 
their liberties, that very little power was given to the com- 
mander over the militia or civil authorities. The evil of 
this Washington soon felt in the insubordination of his 
troops, and the stul^l^orn refusal of the settlers to assist him 
in transporting his men and baggage. He was comjDclled 
to impress wagons and men into the service, and enforce 
every order by his " own dra^vn sword " over the head of 
the delinquent, or by the bayonets of a party of his soldiers. 
This so exas^Dcrated the inhabitants that they threatened to 
blow out his brains. He, however, by his strong arm, kept 
down both open mutiny and rebellion, and j^ushed forward 
his plans with all the energy he 230ssessed. Meanwhile 
[Oct. 11th, 1755,] he wrote to the governor, detailing the 
difficulties under which he labored, and requesting that 
more power should be delegated to the commander-in-chief. 

While things Avere in this disordered state, there came on 
Saturday night an express, panting with fear and exhaus- 
tion, announcing that a party of Indians were only twelve 
miles off, driving the frightened inhabitants from their 
dwellings. Washington immediately strengthened the 



68 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

town-guards and ordered the troops to be armed, while he 
sent out two scouts to give notice of the approach of the 
savages. At dayhght a second express arrived, " ten times 
more terrified than the former," declaring that the Indians 
were within four miles of the town, " killing and destroj-ing- 
all before them ;" that he had heard the shrieks and cries 
of the murdered. The whole place was immediately thrown 
into the wildest commotion. Washington, hastily collecting 
forty men, sallied forth and marched rapidly toward the 
place where this scene of carnage was transpiring. As he 
approached it lie heard the firing of guns, and shouts and 
horrid imprecations. But on advancing nearer he disco- 
vered that all this uproar w\as caused by " three drunken 
soldiers of the light-horse," who, in the midst of their 
debauch, amused themselves by uttering blasphemies and 
firing their pistols in the air. Peremptorily ordering them 
under arrest, he marched them back to town. On his 
arrival he met the spies sent out the night before, who 
reported that the party of Indians first discovered consisted 
of a mulatto and negro, whom a child had seen hunting 
cattle. The child had told her story to her father, the 
father to the neighborhood, and the inhabitants, terrified 
out of reason, had abandoned their homes and tied to a 
place of refuge. The next day other scouts, who had been 
sent farther on, returned with letters from the outposts, 
stating that the Indians had gone off. They were supposed 
to be about one hundred and fifty in number, and had, in 
their raid into the distant settlements, killed and tidven 
prisoners about seventy men, and destroyed several planta- 
tions and houses. 

Tlie panic of the inhabitants at those massacres reached 
almost to frenzy, and they crowded the roads across the 
Blue Ridge, so that it was with difficulty a company of 
rangers could effect a passage. 

But the Indians having retired, Washington rei)aircd to 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 69 

the seat of government, and, by dint of j)erseverance, pre- 
vailed on the assembly to pass a bill giving power to the 
commander to hold court-martials and punish mutiny, deser- 
tion and disobedience. Having accomplished this he re- 
turned to head-quarters in better spirits, and began to 
prepare for an early spring campaign. Sometimes at Alex- 
andria and again at Fort Cumberland, going from post to 
post, and placing everything on the best possible footing 
that his means allowed, he passed the latter part of autumn 
and the first half of winter. His duties w^ere laborious and 
harassing in the extreme, and he here had an admirable 
training in the school of patience, which enabled him after- 
ward to bear with the meanness, dilatoriness and inefficiency 
of Congress. 

In the mean time an event occurred, which shows to what 
a ruinous point the petty rivalries and jealousies of officers 
and the spirit of insubordination had reached in the colo- 
nies. At Fort Cumberland was stationed a Captain Dag- 
worthy, who had been put there by Governor Sharpe of 
Maryland. Having held a royal commission, he considered 
himself superior in rank to any provincial officer, and hence 
refused to pay any regard to Washington's orders. This, 
of course, the latter w^ould not submit to, and wrote to 
Governor Dinwiddle for exjDress orders on the subject. But 
the wary governor, remembering that he himself had for- 
merly sanctioned this very assumption of rank of the regu- 
lar commissioned officers over the provincials of higher 
grade, and reflecting, too, that the fort was in the province 
of Maryland, whose governor he knew upheld the captain, 
he refused to give any orders. He did not hesitate, how 
ever, to intimate j)retty clearly that Washington had better 
arrest the refractory captain. But the latter was not thus 
to be caught, and wrote back that his authority must be 
confirmed, or he should at once resign his commission. As 
a last resort, it was proposed to refer the matter to Gover- 



70 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

nor Shirley, in Boston, avIio at this time was commander-in- 
chief of the British forces in the colonies. Washino-ton 
was appointed bearer of 'his own petition, and on the 4th 
of Febru;u\y, accompanied by his aid-de-camp Captain Mer- 
cer, and Captain Stewart, set ont on horseback for Boston. 
That a paltry captain, commanding only thirty men, should 
thus arrest the military operations of a whole state, and 
send the commander-in-chief of its forces five hundred 
miles, in the dead of winter, on horseback, to settle whether 
he should obey orders given for mutual benefit and the 
:;ommon good, seems, at this day, quite incomprehensible. 
But this peculiar sensitiveness respecting individual rights, 
though often exhibiting itself in absurd forms, was never- 
theless necessary to the development of that spirit of resist- 
^ance to the encroachments of the mother country, which 
afterward secured our independence. 

Accompanied by his two subordinates, the 3'oung colonel 
took his long, cold and dreary journc}' northward. The re- 
port of his chivalric and gallant character had joreceded him, 
and he was every where received with courtesy and honor. 
Valuable acquaintances were formed and useful know- 
ledge gained. Mr. Beverly Robinson, a strong loyalist, and 
in the Ilevolution afterward a Tory, received him at New 
York as his guest, and entertained him with rare hospitality. 
A sister of Mrs. Ilobinson was staying in the family at the 
time, M'hose beauty and winning manners soon took captive 
the chivalric heart of the young southern colonel. He had 
forgotten his lowland beauty, and when he bade adieu to 
the hospitable mansion of Mr. Robinson, to prosecute his 
journey to Boston, he felt that he had left a large portion 
of his happiness behind him. 

Having o])tainod full and ample authority from Governor 
Shirley, he returned to New York, and was again ])laccd 
under the influence of Miss Phillips' charms. Lingering 
here as long as duty would permit him, he at length turned 



LIFE OF WASHlNaTON. 71 

his reluctant footsteps southward. Wliether he gave the 
ladj any indications of his passion, or whether he resolved 
to wait till more leisure would furnish him a better oppor- 
tunity of renewing his suit, does not appear. At all events, 
he was deeply in love, and could not leave until he had 
confessed it to a friend, and engaged him to keep watch of 
her movements, so that if any rival appeared he could be 
informed of it at once. In a short time a young officer, 
one of Braddock's aids and an acquaintance of Washington, 
became a suitor of Miss Phillips. Washington's friend 
immediately wrote him of the dangerous state of affairs, 
and told him, if he wished to win the lady, he must come 
on at once. But whether the duties of his command de- 
tained him at home, or whether, having ascertained the 
name of his rival, he was too magnanimous to endeavor to 
supplant him, was never known. She, however, passed 
away with the " lowland beauty," leaving the young colonel 
to forget his passion in the exciting scenes of the camp. 

Reaching Williamsburg about the time of the meeting 
of the assembly, he set about arranging with the governor 
a plan for the summer camj^aign. The want of artillery, 
means of transportation, etc., rendered offensive operations 
impossible, and it was resolved simplj^ to defend the frontier 
already occupied by British outjDOsts. The jealousy of the 
separate states preventing them from uniting in a common 
campaign against the French, Virginia, which was most 
threatened, was left alone to defend her extensive borders. 
A bill was therefore passed to raise the army to fifteen hun- 
dred men, and another for drafting the militia, when recruits 
were wanting. 



72 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 



CHAPTER m. 

Fresh Hostilities of the Indians — Attempts to Supersede Washington — Anonymous 
Libels — Washington wishes to Resign — Prevented by his Friends — Establishes 
a Line of Forts — Harassing Nature of his Duties — Attends a Convention at 
Phihuklphia — His Sickness and Retirement to Mount Vernon— Progress of the 
War — Frederick the Great — Washington's first Acquaintance with Mrs. Custis — 
Advance of the Army to Fort Uu Qucsne — Washington required to cut a New 
Road — His Forebodings likely to prove true — Capture of the Fort — Election of 
Washington to tlie House of Burgesses — His Marriage — Life at Mount Vernon — 
Collision with a Poacher— Settles the Soldiers' Claims— Expedition to the Western 
Wilderness to examine the Wild Lands — Admirable Preparation for his Future 
Career. 

WASinNGTON repaired to head-quarters at Winchester. 
But few troops, however, were there, the greater part being 
stationed in the different forts on the frontier. 

The savages, emboldened by the long inaction of the 
whites, began to hover in dark and threatening war clouds 
around the settlements. The more remote ones being 
abandoned, the Indians pushed forward to those bcj'ond the 
Blue Bidge, and swooped down around the very head-quar- 
ters of the commander-in-chief Scouting parties were 
driven in — forts boldly attacked, and officers killed. The 
woods seemed alive with the lurking foe — men were shot 
down in the field, and women and children found massacred 
on the floors of their own dwellings. From every direction 
came tales of horror and thrilling accoimts of suffering and 
torture. Spreading terror along the whole frontier, the 
savages penetrated to within a few miles of Winchester, 
killing officers and men. With but few soldiers under his 
command, Washington could not be omnipresent, while it 
would not answer to withdraw any of the garrisons, for 
large numbers of the settlers were gathered in every fort. 
Growing bolder by success, the savages seriously threatened 
the forts themselves, and Washington expected every day 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 73 

to hear of tlieir fall and the massacre of all within. With 
a heart swelling with indignation and pity, he entreated the 
assembly to send him helj). To add to his anguish, com- 
plaints continually reached him of the gross misconduct 
of some of his officers, and murmurs against him l)egan to 
rise in various quarters. An anonymous writer published 
in a newspaper all the floating and exaggerated rumors 
respecting the officers, and though not daring to charge the 
blame directly on Washington, he yet plainly hinted that a 
leader should be held responsible for the irregularities of 
his subordinates. A faction of Scotchmen had been formed, 
whose purpose was to get rid of the present commander-in- 
chief, and place colonel Innies in his place. Disgusted, and, 
for the time, depressed, by the apathy of the government, 
his own fettered condition, the false accusations made by 
anonymous writers, and above all, by the sufferings of the 
inhabitants, which he had not the power to relieve, Wash- 
ington wished to resign his commission. In a letter to the 
governor, after depicting the deplorable condition of things, 
he says : " I am too little acquainted, sir, with pathetic lan- 
guage, to attemjot a description of the people's distresses, 
though I have a generous soul, sensible of wrongs and 
swelling for redress. I see their situation, know their dan- 
ger, and participate in their sufferings, v/ithout having it in 
my power to give them further relief than uncertain pro- 
mises." These things, together with the unmerited abuse 
heaped upon the officers, and thus, indirectly upon himself, 
make him regret the day he accejoted his commission; while 
the prayers and tears of men and women, begging for that 
relief he eannot afford, and the increasing reports of Indian 
murders and cruelty, which will be laid to his charge, as 
commander-in-chief, fill up the cup of bitterness which he 
is compelled to drink, and he exclaims : " The supi3licating 
tears of the women, and moving petitions of the men, melt 
me into such deadly sorrow, that I solemnly declare, if I 



74 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

know my own mind, I could offer myself a willing sacrifice 
to the butchering enemy, provided that would contribute to 
the ^^eople's ease." It was enough to move a heart of 
stone, to see that young man, only twenty-four years of age, 
burning to rescue the defenseless inhaljitants, and panting 
for action ; standing with idle hands and fettered feet, sur- 
rounded with gray-haired fathers and weeping orphans, 
whom the Indians had bereft of friends, his ears constantly 
stunned with tales of horrid murder, praying in bitterness 
of spirit, that he might be offered up a sacrifice, to effect 
that which an inefficient government will not permit him 
to do. 

His friends in the council and assembly, were alarmed at 
the intimation that he wished to resign, and appealed to 
his patriotism and pride to dissuade him from so fatal a 
purpose. They declared no one Ijelieved the libels that 
appeared in print, and soon the author of them would be 
detected. A letter from Loudon, probably had more effect 
than any other remonstrance. The sagacious patriot told 
Washington that his resignation was probably the very 
result his libeler was after, so that he himself might take 
his place. He knew this would tell on the high, sensitive 
spirit of Washington, and he wound up with, *' No sir, 
rather let Braddock's bed be your aim, than any thing 
might discolor those laurels which I promise myself are 
kept in store for you." 

The plot being discovered, its authors were covered with 
disgrace, and Washington retained his command. His 
position, however, continued to be a most trying one. 
The officious governor, not content with taking, care of 
matters at home, using his power to augment, pay, clothe 
and feed the army, was constantly intcrmeddHng with its 
movements, perplexing and harassing Washington lioj'ond 
measure with his absurd orders. 

The summer and autumn [175G] were passed in building 




BURIAL OF ERADDOCK. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 77 

forts and defending the country from Indian encroacli- 
ments, still every thing was in confusion. Soldiers were 
wanted, and if furnished, there was no clothing nor 
provisions prepared for them. Those already enrolled 
received only six-j)ence, sterling, per day, two of the eight- 
pence allowed being kept back to buy clothing with, 
which, some how or other, failed to reach its destination. 

Washington wished to hold only a few forts, and have 
them well garrisoned. Fort Cumberland being out of the 
state, and too far in advance of the settlements that re- 
mained, to be of any service, he proposed to abandon it, 
or at least withdraw all the troops with the exception of a 
single company, and build another fort between it and 
Winchester. But the governor would not listen to the pro- 
posal, while instead of lessening the number of forts, the 
assembly proposed to extend a line of them from the 
Potomac to North Carolina — running for three hundred 
miles through the Alleghanies. Washington asked for 
more men, and the assembly replied by bidding him build 
more forts. The former declared the garrisons were quite 
weak enough already, without spreading them over a still 
larger surface, thus provoking the enemy to cut them off in 
detail. His remonstrance, however, had no effect ; these 
civilians knew more than the commander-in-chief; and he' 
set about the arduous work forced upon him with all his 
accustomed energy. The line on which the forts were to 
be erected was determined by a council of officers at Fort 
Cumberland, and soon tools and men were dispatched to._ 
the different localities. These Washington visited in turn, 
and once made the entire tour of three hundred miles, 
exposed almost every step of his progress to the rifle shot of 
the savage. Most of the way he had no escort but a ser- 
vant and guide, and thus accompanied, passed on one 
occasion a spot where, an hour afterward, two men were 
killed by the Indians. He found the militia insubordinate, 

5 



78 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the officers away, and every thing at loose ends. There 
was no vigilance — no discipline. In one case he found the 
militia stubbornly refusing to lift their hands toward 
erecting the fort, till paid forty pounds of tobacco, which 
they declared to be their due. The works, however, were 
slowly carried forward, and the sound of the pickaxe and 
hammer — the call of the teamster, and the morning and 
evening gun, awoke the echoes of that vast wilderness, 
marking the barrier which the white man had reared 
against the savage, who from that time on has been 
crowded back, till the shadows of the Rocky Mountains 
now fall on his lodjres. 

Washington's letters to Governor Dinwiddie, during the 
summer and autumn, are a succession of appeals to put the 
military of the state on a better footing. Families butch- 
ered within twelve miles of his head-quarters — insubordina- 
tion of his troops — the want of clothing, provisions and 
tirras — complaints of being compelled to be in turn his own 
commissary and engineer — that to-day he is supplied with 
one batch of orders, to-morrow with others directly contra- 
dictory — troubles with Quakers who had been drafted, but 
would " be whipped to death " rather than fight — short 
levies of soldiers — court-martials for desertion — empty mili- 
tary chest — skirmishes with the Indians, and often bootless 
pursuit of them — constant struggle with difficulties, where 
no glory could be gained, made up the budget of the sum- 
mer. The encouraging letters of staunch friends — the 
advice of Col. Fairfax to read Caisar's Commentaries and 
Quintius Curtius, in order to learn how to bear trials, were 
all very well in their way, yet a poor compensation for 
what he suflered. 

At this early stage of his career he commenced that strict 
-discipline which he ever after maintained in an army of the 
•most irregular troops in the world. Hearing that profanity 
prevailed in his regiment, he issued an order of the day, in 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 79 

which " the officers are desired, if they hear any man 
swear, or make use of any oath or execration, to order the 
offender twenty-five lashes immediately, without a court- 
martial. For the second offense he will be more severely 
punished." To a captain who had taken advantage of his 
years to write somewhat haughtily to his young colonel, he 
replied that he had heard bad reports of him, and concluded 
by saying, "If I hear any just complaints against you, you 
may expect to answer them." To another captain, whose 

lieutenant was refractory, he wrote, " Tell Mr, L he is 

not to stir from his post at his peril until he has leave ; if he 
does, I will arrest him for his disobedience of orders, and 
try him as soon as he arrives here." 

Earl Loudon had succeeded Governor Shirley in the chief 
command in the colonies, and was now on his way to this 
country. He was expected to land in Virginia, and Wash- 
ington, in anticipation of his arrival, drew up a lucid paper, 
containing a narrative of events since the beginning of hos- 
tilities, pointed out the errors that had been made, and sug- 
gested the course that should be adopted in future. • Loudon, 
however, did not go to Virginia, but called a meeting 
[March, 1757,] of the different governors and chief officers 
at Philadelphia. Washington was among the number, and 
was received by the commander-in-chief with marked atten- 
tion. In that convention it was decided that, in prosecut- 
ing the war which had now been openly declared by 
England against France, the whole force of the army should 
be directed against the Canada borders. Virginia was to be 
left to carry out her defensive operations, which doomed 
Washington to the perplexing, harassing life of the past 
year. He returned to Winchester, recalled the troops from 
Fort Cumberland, by order of Loudon, and employed him- 
self in resisting the encroachments of the Indians. 

During the summer [1757] he was subject to the orders , 
of Colonel Stanwix, stationed in Pennsylvania, whom Lou- 



80 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

don had placed over the middle and southern provinces. In 
the mean time he urged an expedition against Fort Du 
Quesne, declaring that the mustering of forces in the north 
had so exhausted the French garrisons along the Ohio that 
they Avould fall an easy conquest. The governor coincided 
with him in his views, but he was not allowed to carry them 
out, and the summer wore away in struggling with the old 
dilTiculties, and in skirmishes with the Indians, whose pre- 
sence near the fort was always announced by the murder 
of white men. 

But in the autumn Washington began to decline in health. 
His magnificent constitution was evidently sinking, and, 
though he endeavored for a while to bear up against the 
pressure of disease, he at length yielded before it, and 
retired to Mount Vernon and took to his bed. Although 
his physical labors had been of the most exhausting kind, 
it was not so much these as the harassed and perplexed 
state of mind he was kept in by others, that finally broke 
him down. A slow fever settled upon him, and for four 
months he was kept at home an invalid. 

In January, Governor Dinwiddie sailed for England, leav- 
ing few regrets behind him. Although zealous and active 
in the service of the colonies, he was petulant, meddlesome, 
and a constant marplot to most of the military operations 
of AVashington. In the latter part of his career he seemed 
to delight in thwarting the plans of the young officer whom 
he had at first befriended. For defeating one of them he 
ought to be held in grateful remembrance. It was the 
earnest desire of Washington to enter the regular army, 
and lie set on foot measures to secure his transfer, and 
would have succeeded but for the interference of the gover- 
nor. What effect on liis future career his duty and honor 
as a British oflicer would have had, it is impossible to deter- 
mine, but probably quite enough to prevent his becoming 
commander-in-chief of the rebel forces. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 81 

Tlie great interest of the colonies now gathered round 
the northern border, where two strong armies were assem 
bUng to decide the fate of a continent. But both Loudon 
V and Abercrombie seemed in no haste to precipitate a crisis, 
and let the months wear away in idleness. All this time 
the small, rapid, irritable, yet clear-headed Field-Marshal 
Montcalm was improving every hour. Loading the Indians 
with presents, but refusing them rum, singing with the dif- 
ferent tribes their war-songs, he aroused their enthusiasm 
and bound them to him by strong affection. Their activity 
in his service soon drenched the frontier in blood. 

About two months before Washington retired to Mount 
Vernon sick, the capture and massacre of Fort William 
Henry took place — the Braddock defeat of the north. 
Every movement of the regular troops proved disastrous, and 
the provincials effected all that was done. The English 
had not now a foothold in the basin of the Ohio ; they had 
been driven away from the St. Lawrence, both sides of 
which the French held possession. The northern lakes, 
too, had fallen into the hands of the latter, and their armies, 
swelled by vast hordes of Indians, threatened to sweep 
downward to Albany, The British arms and the provinces 
were disgraced. All this Washington saw and felt, as he 
lay and tossed on his feverish bed. But Pitt once more 
stood at the head of the government, and it was expected 
that under his energetic administration, affairs would soon 
assume a different aspect. As a relief to the inertness and 
imbecility of these distinguished commanders came the 
war-shout of Frederic of Prussia, from the heights of Ross- 
bach, as with twenty thousand nlen he chased sixty thou- 
sand before him — and the loud chorus of his troops as they 
stormed over the batteries of Leuthen. Standing up in 
central Europe, this strong-hearted hero " determined to 
save his country or perish." With Russia, Sweden, Austria 
and France closing steadily upon him with their powerful 



82 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

armies, his brave spirit only rose with the increasing dan- 
ger. " To save the state," said he, " I dare the impossible." 
" The number and position of the enemy are not questions 
to be thouglit of. We must beat them, or all of us hnd our 
graves before their batteries." About going into battle, he 
said — " The regiment of cavalry that shall not instantly 
charge when ordered, shall be dismounted and sent into 
garrison — the battalion of infantry that shall but falter, 
shall lose its colors and its swords. Now farewell, friends ; 
soon we shall have vanquished, or see each other no more.' 
With these brave words, though outnumbered three to one 
he turned on his powerful adversaries in succession, and 
with blow after blow, that astounded the civilized world, 
overwhelmed their pride and redeemed his country. Such 
tidings ever and anon came to Washington's, ears, as he lay 
an invalid, showing that his views of a true hero were not 
ideal. Frederic became one of his favorite characters ; he 
watched his struggle with the deepest sympathy, and was 
no doubt influenced much in after life by his conduct and 
character. He was the only living man of whom Wash- 
ington had a bust in his house at Mount Vernon. 

As spring opened Washington slowly improved ; but he 
considered his constitution so thoroughly broken down that 
it would require great care and a long time to recruit, and 
he seriously contemplated resigning his command and all 
prospects of preferment. He, however, changed his pur- 
pose, and in March set out to join the army. The effort 
of travel brought on a return of his disease, but he ral- 
lied again, and soon after resumed his command at Fort 
Loudon. 

In the mean time Pitt had made some changes in colo- 
nial matters. Francis Fauquier was appointed to take the 
place of Dinwiddie, and Forbes of Stanwix. Loudon had 
been superseded by Jeffrey Amherst, who was seconded by 
the gallant Wolf, while — though Abcrcrombie retained his 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 83 

command- — Lord Howe bad been appointed as tbe real 
leader of tbe enterprise intrusted to bim. Tbree expedi- 
tions were planned — one under Amberst and Admiral Bos- 
cawan against Louisburg — a second under Abercrombie 
against Ticonderoga, and tbe tbird under Forbes to effect 
tbe conquest of tbe Obio valley. To insure tbe cbeerful 
cooperation of tbe colonists, Pitt wrote tbem a circular let- 
ter, calculated to inspire all witb new spirit. Arms, ammu- 
nition, tents and provisions would tbereafter be supplied bj 
tbe king, wbile tbe provincial officers were to bold equal 
rank witb tbose of tbe regular array. Tbe Virginia assem- 
bly immediately met and voted to increase tbe army to two 
tbousand men. Tbese, divided into two regiments, and 
acting in concert witb bis majesty's troops, were designated 
to march against Fort Du Quesne. 

It was about this time, wbile on bis way to Williams- 
burg, tbat Washington was first made acquainted witb tbe 
young widow wbo was destined to become bis wife. Tbe 
young colonel, in military undress, mounted on a splendid 
cbarger and attended by a single tall body servant, botb 
tbe gift of tbe dying Braddock as be fled from tbe fatal 
field of Monongabela, bad just crossed Williams's Ferry, 
over tbe Pamunkey, a brancb of York river, wben be was 
met by Mr. Cbamberlayne, a Virginia gentleman of tbe old 
school, wbo invited bim to bis bouse. Washington excused 
himself, on tbe ground of urgent business witb tbe gover- 
nor. But tbe hospitable planter would take no denial, and 
at last succeeded in turning tbe scale by promising to intro- 
duce him to a young and beautiful widow. Tbe colonel 
finally consented to stop and dine — nothing more. A short 
delay could be made up by bard riding and pressing further 
into tbe night. In dismounting be gave his horse into tbe 
charge of bis servant Bishop, with explicit instructions to. 
have bim at the door at a certain hour. Giving his arm to 
his guest, tbe hospitable planter entered the bouse and 



84 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

introduced him to his fomilj. The young Virginia colonel 
immediately drew every eye upon him, for a fine command- 
nig appearance heightened rather than lessened the romance 
that gathered around his chivalrous and adventurous life. 
The young widow was handsome, fascinating, and possessed 
of a large fortune, and was moreover the widow of a colo- 
nel. Colonel Washington was also rich, of high family 
connections, and, above all, possessed that which ever 
attracts woman, a valiant, heroic heart, that would beat as 
calmly amid whistling bullets and death and carnage as in 
its peaceful slumbers. The lady was only three months 
vountrer than he, and from the first did not disguise her 
admiration of the youthful hero. On the other hand, her 
society was so agreeable to Washington, that for the first 
time in his life he forgot his own appointment. Ilis servant 
Bishoj"), punctual to his orders, had the two horses saddled 
and bridled, standing at the gate at the time appointed. 
Contrary to all military rules, and all former experience, 
his master did not make his appearance. Lingering under 
the sweet influence of the beautiful 3'oung widow, the time 
slipped unconsciously away. At length, as the sun stooped 
behind the western wilderness, the planter stepped forward 
and declared that it was contrary to the rules of his estate 
to allow a guest to leave the house after sundown. AVash- 
ington laughingly acknowledged that he felt bound to sub- 
mit to such wholesome regulations, and was soon forgetful 
of every thing but the fascinating woman beside him. 
Other dreams than those of military glory visited his pil- 
low that night, and other hopes impelled him forward, as 
next morning he continued his journey to Williamsburg. 

On his return he stopped again at the "White House" 
of his friend, and surrendered at discretion to the bloom- 
ing widow. 

The charms of his betrothed, however, could not detain 
him from the duties of his command, and he soon was 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 85 

giving his whole soul to the expedition before him. In 
this camjDaign he determined, if possible, to have a chap- 
lain. All his solicitations on this jioint had thus far been 
disregarded, and he wrote to the president of the council 
m^ging the appointment of one, saying, " Common decency, 
sir, in a camp calls for the services of a divine, which ought 
not to be dispensed with, although there should be those 
so uncharitable as to think us void of religion, and inca- 
pable of good instructions." 

The ardor, however, with which he commenced prepara- 
tions was soon chilled by the absurd determination of Forbes 
to cut a new road to Fort Du Quesne from Pennsylvania, 
instead of using the old one made by Braddock. It was 
now the latter part of summer, and he knew that by 
this arrangement the winter would find the army shut up 
midway in the wilderness. Independent of the necessity 
of dispatch and the importance of saving labor, Braddock's 
route was known to be the best through the mountains, 
even though a new road were required. Washington ex- 
hausted argument and persuasion to dissuade Forbes and 
his second in command. Colonel Bouquet, from this insane 
purpose. He saw another Braddock's defeat in it, and was 
distressed beyond measure at the prospect before the army. 
Said he, if it is undertaken, " all is lost ; our enterprise will 
be ruined, and we shall be stopped at the Laurel Hill this 
winter — not to gather laurels, except of the kind that covers 
the mountains." 

The first of autumn found Washington still at the camp 
near Fort Cumberland, filled with despondenc}^ and fore- 
bodings at the fatal determination of his commander. Sick- 
ness had entered the army, and the troops, weary and 
dispirited by their long inactivity, turned with disgust from 
the prospect before them. " That appearance of glory," 
said Washington, " which we had once in view, that hope, 
that laudable ambition of serving our country and meriting 



86 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. . 

its .applause, are now no more. ... In a word, all is lost 
if tlio ways of men in power, like certain ways of Provi- 
dence, are not inscrutable. . . . The conduct of our leaders, 
if not actuated by superior orders, is tempered with some- 
thing I do not care to give a name to. Nothing now but a 
miracle can bring this campaign to a happy issue." 

The general, however, remained immovable on the route 
to be taken, but in all other things paid great deference to 
Washington. The latter, with a thousand men, was sent in 
advance of the main army, to cut the road for a hundred 
miles through the wilderness. Guided by blazed trees, he 
began his long and tedious march. Streams had to be 
bridged, ravines filled up, and redoubts erected. Working 
from daylight till dark to gain six or seven mil^s, the troops 
saw winter fast approaching, with the almost certain pros- 
pect of passing it in the mountains. Washington, how- 
ever, infused his own spirit into the officers and men, and 
continued steadily to pierce the wilderness. Filled with 
memories of the past that clustered around a region with 
which he had been familiar since boyhood — recalling to 
mind his first defeat at Fort Necessity, and the fearful rout 
at Monongahela, he hoped to wipe out the disgrace of both 
in victory. Major Grant, with eight hundred Highlanders 
and a company of Virginians, had been sent forward by 
Bouquet to take Fort Du Quesne, which, he had been told 
was feebly garrisoned. Advancing boldly on the place, he 
was assailed by the French with such fury that the High- 
landers broke and fled, leaving the gallant Virginia company 
to save the army from utter destruction. The news meet- 
ing Washington in the wilderness did not dampen his 
courage, but increased it, as success would now be a double 
triumph. 

General Forbes, borne on a litter, with the sands of life 
ebbing slowly away, writing to have a " chimne}^ built " 
for his use at every camp, followed slowly after, with the 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 87 

main army. He did not reach Loyal Hanna till the 5th of 
November [1758]. He had made fifty miles in that time, 
or an average of one mile a day. Fifty miles more of 
wilderness lay between the army and Fort Du Quesne. 
What Washington had predicted had now come to pass. 
The mountain- tops were covered with snow — the frosts of 
winter had come on, and the soldiers, unaccustomed to such 
hardships, and scantily clothed, sunk into despondency. It 
was therefore resolved, in a council of war, to proceed no^ 
farther that season. With six thousand men under his 
command, and the whole summer before him, Forbes had 
finally succeeded in getting his army into the heart of the 
Alleghanies. Had he followed Washington's advice, he 
would at this time have been comfortably quartered in Fort 
Du Quesne, his object accomplished and his troubles over. 
In contrast to this was a long sojourn in that desolate 
forest, a miserable invalid, or a disgraceful retreat to the 
settlements. 

Whilst things were in this gloomy state, three French 
prisoners were brought into camp, who reported the fort 
wholly unable to make any resistance. This unexpected, 
accidental piece of good fortune alone saved the army from 
humiliation. It was immediately resolved to push forward. 
The tents and heavy baggage were left behind, and with a 
light train of artillery the army again took up its line of 
march. Washington in advance, cutting the road before 
him, led on the column. Elate with joy at the favorable 
turn events had taken, he spoke cheering words to ofiicers 
and men, and once more the blast of the bugle and roll of 
the drum were answered with acclamations. " All the 
men," he wrote back, '' are in fine spirits and anxious to go 
on." He strained every nerve to hasten his progress ; but 
to make a road for the main army toiling in the rear, was 
slow work, and it took him thirteen days to reach Fort Du 
Quesne. As he approached the place, the garrison, only 



88 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

five hundred in number, set fire at night to the buildings, 
and, as the flames hghted up the surrounding gloom, leaped 
into their boats and disappeared down the river. On the 
very spot where the heroic stripling had stood when on his 
way as commissioner to the French, and which he had 
selected as an excellent locality for a fort, he now again 
stood, and gazed with kindling eye on the smoulderhig 
ruins before him. Du Quesne, so long the goal of his 
efforts, was at last won. The royal flag was planted amid 
the ruins, and, as it swayed to the breeze, they named the 
place Pittsburg, in honor of Pitt, under whose direction the 
expedition had been undertaken — a noble monument to the 
great statesman ; and, " long as the Monongahela and the 
Allegliany sludl flow to form the Ohio, long as the English 
tongue shall be the language of freedom in the boundless 
valley which their waters traverse, his name shall stand 
inscribed on the Gateway of the West." 

A small garrison was left in. the fort, and the army began 
its retrograde march. 

No further interference from the French was at present 
to be feared, Avhile the Indians, deserted by their allies, no 
longer threatened the settlements. The state was at peace, 
and Washington, only twenty-six years of age, laden with 
honors, resigned his command, and repaired to Mount Ver- 
non [December]. 

While on the last campaign he had been elected member 
of the House of Burgesses from Frederic county. There 
were four other candidates in the field, and his friends wrote 
him that it was very important he should be on the spot. 
This his duties prevented ; yet, notwithstanding the advan- 
tage which his absence gave his competitors, he beat them 
all. The ill-will that had been engendered against hijn in 
some quarters, on account of the stern sM'ay he had often 
been compellcil to exercise over the militia, and even the 
inhabitants themselves, could not oflset the deep and wide 




PLANTING or THE R Y A L F L A G ON THE RUINS OF FORT D U Q U E S N E . 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 91 

spread admiration of his conduct and character. Colonel 
Wood stood proxy for him in his victory, and was carried 
round the town amid the deafening acclamations of the 
people, as " Huzza for Colonel Washington" rent the air. 
The latter, however, had a nice little bill to pay, which his 
friends, according to custom, had run up for him. One 
hogshead and one barrel of punch, thirty-five gallons of 
wine, forty-three gallons of strong beer, any quantity of 
cider, wound up with a dinner to his friends, costing in all 
thirty-nine pounds and six shillings, or nearly two hundred 
dollars, was the price paid for his election. 

Having now returned to private life, he consummated his 
engagement with Mrs. Custis, and a wedding was given 
[January 6th, 1759,] on a scale commensurate with the 
wealth and standing of the parties, and in keeping with the 
good old customs of the time. From far and near came the 
laced coats and powdered hair and long cues, till the hos- 
IDitable mansion overflowed with the wealth and beauty and 
gaiety of the colony. And a noble couple they were — the 
young colonel six feet three inches in height, towering 
above all around, and the beautiful bride, radiant with hap- 
piness. The rafters of the huge mansion rung that night 
tvith mirth and gaiety. The bride brought as a dowry 
thirty thousand pounds sterling, besides one-third of large 
landed estates. She had two children ; a son, six years old, 
and a daughter, four. To the former belonged one-third ot 
the estates left by his father, while the latter had the re- 
maining third, together with ten thousand pounds sterling. 
This swelled Washington's fortune to an enormous amount 
for those days. 

He did not take his bride immediately to Mount Vernon, 
but repaired to Wilhamsburg, and took his seat as member 
of the assembly. During the session the speaker was di- 
rected, by a vote of the House, " to return thanks on behalf 
of the colony to Colonel Washington, for the distinguished 



92 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

military services he had rendered the country." This the 
eloquent speaker did in a manner to suit himself, and poured 
forth a strain of eulogium at once unexpected and embar- 
rassing. Washington, taken wholly by surprise, rose to re- 
ply, but could not stammer forth a single word. Out of this 
painfid dilemma the witty speaker helped him as generously 
as he had helped him into it. " Sit down, Mr. Washing- 
ton," said he, " your modesty equals your valor, and that 
surpasses the power of any language that I possess." No- 
thing could be more elegant and skillful than this double 
stroke, which at once relieved Washington, while it en- 
hanced the compliment. 

In the spring Washington retired to Mount Vernon, and 
devoted himself- to agricultural pursuits. Covered with 
honor from five years' faithful and arduous service, united 
to a noble and beautiful woman, surrounded with affluence, 
and beloved by all, life at this time spread out attractively 
before him, and its waters promised to bear him smoothly 
on to the end of his course. 

He adorned his library with the busts of distinguished 
military chieftains of former ages, and, with true Virginia 
hospitality, kept open house for his friends. He was inte- 
rested in every improvement in agriculture — entered largely 
into the cultivation of tobacco, which he shipped directly 
from his estates to England. He M'as very fond of hunting, 
and kept a fine pack of hounds, not only for his own amuse- 
ment, but that of his friends. He was a splendid rider, 
and when following the hounds in full cry, taking the daring 
leap as he flew over the fields, he was the admiration of all. 
^Two or three times a week, with horse and dogs, he was 
out — his nature finding relief in the excitement and clamor 
of the chase. 

Duck shooting was another favorite pastime, and he spent 
hours in his boat, stealing stealthily on the coveys of birds, 
or watching their flight from his place of concealment. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 93 

His love of this sport once brought him in collision with a 
bold, reckless fellow, who lived on the opposite side of the 
Potomac, but would often cross and shoot near Mount Ver- 
non. Washington had repeatedly forbade his doing so, but 
without effect. In some secluded creek or nook the poacher 
would hide away, and shoot at leisure. One day the 
former hearing a shot, sprang on his horse and galloped 
toward the spot whence the sound came. The marauder, 
seeing him approach, ran for his skiff, and had just time to 
push off from shore and leap in as Washington galloped up. 
The latter instantly rode in and seized the boat. The reck- 
less fellow within immediately leveled his gun at Washing- 
ton's breast, swearing that he would shoot him dead if he 
did not let him go. But the southern blood of the excited 
young planter was up, and paying no attention to his 
threats, he drew the desperado fiercely ashore. He then 
disarmed and dragged him out upon the bank, and gave 
him a thorough cowhiding, as merely a foretaste of what 
awaited him if he continued his depredations. The cure 
was effectual, and the poacher sought other fields in which 
to prosecute his calling. There was something about Wash- 
ington's demeanor and look, when excited, that would make 
a bold man hesitate to assail him. 

While he was thus passing the first year of married life 
in the quiet routine of a planter's occupations, the doom of 
the French empire on this continent was fixed. Although 
at the very time the expedition to Fort Du Quesne was 
drawing to a successful close, Abercrombie had been beaten 
by Montcalm, and with the exception of the capture of 
Louisburg, defeat had attended the English arms all along 
the Canadian frontier, the struggle still went on, and all 
eyes were turned northward, where the armies of the two 
greatest nations on the globe strove for the possession of 
unoccupied solitudes, and waters undisturbed by commerce. 

At length a long, loud shout came rolling from the 



94 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Heights of Abraham, announcing that the struggle was 
over. The deaths of the two heroes, Montcalm and 
Wolfe, were worthy of the great event they helped to 
bring about. 

"Washington retained his seat in the House of Burgesses 
fifteen years, or until the Revolution. His life during this 
period differed very little from that of most Virginia plant- 
ers around him. As a member of the assembly he 'spol^e 
but little. His motto was not to speak except on import- 
ant subjects, or on those which directly concerned his 
constituents, and then calmly, and wholly to the point 
of fact. 

Notwithstanding the extensive business on his hands, and 
the many calls upon his time, he was his own book-keoj^er. 
Exact in every thing, he required those with whom he 
dealt to be the same. He was compelled to import all his 
wardrobe, farming utensils, harness, etc., from England. 
Twice a year he made out a list of the things he wanted 
and sent it to his correspondent in London. An order on 
his tailor illustrates the ideas of dress in those times. In 
giving the description of a coat he had requested to be 
made, he said he did not wish a rich garment, but a plain 
one, " luith gold or silver buttons." 

There is another little anecdote showing how he always 
adhered to facts. The church in the parish of which he Avas 
vestryman, having become dilapidated, it was resolved to pull 
it down and build a new one. But a difference of opinion 
arose respecting the spot where it should be placed, the pre- 
sent site not being central. Washington, taking a practical 
view of the matter, wished it located where it would be most 
convenient to the parishioners. George Mason, his friend 
and neighbor, on the other hand, was anxious to retain the 
old consecrated spot, hallowed by so many sweet and sacred 
associations. After several meetings had been held without 
coming to a decision, a final decisive one was appointed. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 95 

When "the j^eople assembled, Mason, the leader of the party 
wishing to retain the old site, arose and made a long and 
eloquent harangue, pouring out rhapsodies over the spot 
made sacred by so many joys and tears — by the worship 
there rendered and the dead there buried, till he almost con- 
vinced his audience that to remove it would be sacrilege. 
It was evident he had carried the day, for Washington was 
no orator like Brutus to destroy the effect of this impassioned 
appeal. But while Mason was studying his eloquent ha- 
rangue, the former, like an old surveyor as he was, had been 
cautiously making a map of the whole parish, with all its 
dwellings, showing the precise relation which the old and 
new site held to them. Coolly drawing this from his jDOcket, 
at the close of Mason's speech, and unrolling it before the 
people, he bade them look at the matter exactly as it stood, 
and told them it was for them to determine whether they 
would be carried away by an impulse, or act like men of 
sense and reason. This map acted as a condenser to all of 
Mason's vapor — he was deserted in the very moment of 
victory, and retired discomfited from the field. 

This clear, practical view and stubborn adherence to fact, 
was one of the most striking characteristics of Napoleon, 
and we are reminded of a similar anecdote of him. On his 
way to Egypt, a group of savans, that accompanied the 
army, discussed one starry night on the deck of the ship 
the existence of a God. It was finally proved to a demon- 
stration that there was none. The young Napoleon heard 
them through, and then turning his eye upward toward the 
bespangled sky, he waved his hand saying, " All very well, 
gentlemen, but who made all these ?" 

Peace had returned to the country, and to all human 
appearance the future history of Washington was to be that 
of a Virginia farmer. But he carried the same character in 
his social relations that he had borne in public life. The 
soul of honor and the incarnation of justice, he became the 

6 



96 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

depository of sacred trusts, and the umpire between parties 
throughout the entire region. To a friend he wrote that if 
his son wished to pass through college, he could draw on 
him for one hundred and twenty-five dollars a year 
throughout his course. Deeds of kindness and acts of 
benevolence came in between his more important business 
matters, binding his whole life together with golden links 
Among other things in which he became deeply interested 
was the payment of the soldiers and ollicers under his com- 
mand. He was one of the commissioners to close up for the 
colony its military account, and pushed forward the matter 
so energetically, that he soon had the satisfaction of seeing 
every claim settled ; and where the original holder had 
died, arranged it so that the heirs Avould obtain the land. 
He did not overlook even Vonbraam, the interpreter who 
had deceived him so grossly at the Great Meadows, and then 
fled to England. The man had never been condemned 
legall}^ and he therefore considered him entitled to his 
share. 

In October, 1770, he once more passed over the route 
where had transpired the most memorable events of his 
life. Taking with him his old friend Dr. Craik, who had 
been with him from the commencement of his military 
career, he set out on horseback for the Ohio, to see the 
•western lands for himself, in anticipation of having them 
survejxd and laid off in tracts for the army. As they 
passed through the wilderness, almost every step recalled 
8ome scene of interest. They paused by the grave of 
Braddock, and mused together on the Great Meadows, 
where Washington suffered his first defeat. To him it was 
like living his life over again. 

In twelve days he reached Pittsburg. Remaining here 
three days, dining with the officers of the garrison, and 
holding a council with some chiefs of the Six Nations, he 
■on the 20th, witii a lew comjianions, embarked in a large 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON, 97 

canoe down the Ohio. They were now beyond the settle- 
ments of the whites. An unbroken forest shut in the river, 
whose bosom, dotted with islands, was disturbed only by 
the paddle of the red man or the plash of wild fowl. 
Night coming on they hauled their boat ashore, and kindling 
a fire on the banks lay down to rest. At daylight they 
again pushed oft'. The third day it snowed, and along the 
white banks, and through the colonnade of trees the soli- 
tary boat shot downward — now dancing over the rifts, and 
again suddenly brought up on a shoal, threatening to upset 
all in the stream. Toward evening they saw smoke rising 
from amid the trees below them, and on turning a bend of 
the river suddenly came upon an Indian village of twenty 
cabins. Running the boat ashore, they encamped here for 
the night, and were entertained hospitably by the natives. 
Hearing that two traders had been killed a little farther 
on, they hesitated about proceeding, but at length con- 
cluded to venture forward, and kept down the river, stop- 
ping occasionally to allow Washington to examine the lands 
along the creeks and streams that put into the Ohio. The 
call of the wild turkey and the scream of the water-fowl 
were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the soli- 
tude. They scared the wild deer quenching his noonday 
thirst with the crack of their rifles, arid roused the beast of 
prey from his lair, in solitudes hitherto unvisited by the 
white man. 

On the 28th they came upon the Indian chief Kiashuta, 
with his hunting-party, by whom they were kindly received, 
and detained till nine o'clock next morning. Cold autumn 
rains and snow drenched them by day and chilled them at 
night, but Washington continued his investigations, now 
piercing several miles inland, and again accompanying the 
boat on foot along the bank. At length they reached the 
Great Kanhawa, the end of their journey. He had now 
gone two hundred and sixty-five miles from Pittsburg, 



98 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

through a country claimed by the Indians, and where the 
cabin of the white man had never been reared. Passing 
up this river to observe the land they proceeded ten miles 
and encamped. Next morning they pushed on four miles 
fiirther, and then encamped to go hunting. The forest 
soon rung with the report of their pieces, and before night 
the party had brought in five buffaloes and three deer. 
The next day they set out on their return. Strange wild 
fowl, with a cry he had never heard before, huge trees, 
with trunks forty-five feet in circumference, together with 
every picturesque object of nature, arrested Washington's 
attention, as well as the rich bottoms which were destined 
soon to be crowded with an enterprising people. 

He was absent nine weeks in all, not reaching Mount 
Vernon till the first of December. This was his fifth trip 
to the Ohio, and served to keep up his familiarity with 
the fiitigues of a camp life that he was fast forgetting in the 
luxuries of home. All this time he was not an indifierent 
spectator of the strife between the colonies and the mother 
country respecting their mutual rights, but sympathized 
deeply with the former. 

How strangely Providence shaped the life of this man, 
to fit him for the high destiny that awaited him. Five 
years of better training could not have been devised. Stark 
and Putnam and others, had an experience fitting them 
only for partisan warfare, while such generals as Artemus 
Ward were not inured to the hardships and trials through 
which Washington had triumphantly passed. Besides, as 
commander-in-chief of the Virginia forces, he was obliged 
to bear with undisciplined militia and a contradictory and 
officious governor — left to carry on a campaign without 
supplies — keep together half-starved and half-clothed 
troops — compelled to be patient under abuse and neglect — 
to have courage when others desponded, and win universal 
confidence by his integrity and justice. In short he had 



LIFE OP WASHINaTON. 99 

been tried beforehand in every difficulty and temptation 
that was to beset or befall him as the leader of a free peo- 
ple. His five years as colonel was an epitome of the seven 
years he spent at the head of the national army. God 
had proved him, and said clearly by his providence, " Thou 
h^t been faithful over a few things; I will make thee 
ruler over many things." 



100 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



. CHAPTER IV. 

Character of the Colonists — First Attempt to Tax the Provinces — Its Reception by 
the People — Taxation discussed in the British Parliament — Speech of Col. 
Barre — Attitude of Virginia — Speech of Patrick Henry — South Carolina and 
Gadsden — Attacks on Stamp-Master J. IngersoU — First Congress at New York — • 
The Stamp Act Repealed— Excitenocnt and Joy of the Colonists — Washington's 
Views of it — Duties on Tea, Paper, etc. — Tea thrown overboard in Boston Har- 
bor — Port Bill — Virginia Assembly and conduct of Washington — Fast Day — 
Fairfax Resolutions — Washington's Letter to Mr. Brj-an Fairfax — He is elected 
a Delegate to the First General Congress — Action of Congress — Prayer by 
Duche — Washington's standing in Congress — Lexington and Concord — Excite- 
ment of the People — Stockbridge — The Second Congress — Washington Chair- 
man of every Committee — Appointed Commander-in-Chief — Battle of Bunker 
Hill — Journey of Washington to Cambridge — Takes command of the Army — 
Its character — Appearance of the Encampment — Washington's first order — 
Organization of the Army — Difficulties that beset him — Forced to act contrary 
to his wishes. 

During the long interval that Washmgton passed on his 
plantation engaged in the quiet routine of his agricultural 
duties and pleasures, the colonies were shaken from limit 
to limit with the fierce discussion of the doctrine of civil 
rights. 

In New England, the inhabitants, coming directly from 
the old Puritan stock, were naturally jealous of those rights 
for which they had abandoned their native land, while both 
they and the other colonists could not but draw in freedom 
with every breath in the untrammeled life of the wilder- 
ness. Besides, cultivators of the soil are always character- 
ized by independence. The fluctuations of trade, the 
stoppage of commerce, and the derangement of currency 
may prevent their becoming rich, but these cannot prevent 
the earth from yielding her fruits, so that the disasters of 
war do not reach to the means of livelihood, and hence do 
not outweigh all other considerations. Added to all this, a 
boundless wilderness thronged with savages would naturally 
attract to it only the more hardy, enterprismg, self-reliant. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 101 

and fearless class of men, restless under restraint and prompt 
and resolute in the assertion of their rights. 

As the colonies increased in strength and wealth England 
judiciously avoided intermeddling with their internal regu- 
lations, and the Assemblies of the different provinces were 
really more independent than the Parliament of England. 
Such a stock, so educated by external circumstances, and 
strengthened in their views by long continued concessions 
on the part of the mother country, would naturally rebel 
against the first effort to reduce them to bondage. England, 
however, was not aware to what dej)th the sentiment of 
liberty had struck, nor of the sternness and courage with 
which the colonists would resist the first encroachment on 
their rights. Regarding the French war as rather the 
quarrel of the colonies than her own, she resolved tliej'" 
should help sustain the government which had j)i'otected 
them not only from the rapacity of the French, but from 
the cruelties of the savages. But at the first suggestion of 
the British ministry that this should be done by taxation, 
the colonists were thrown into a high state of excitement, 
and urgent remonstrances were made to prevent a step so 
fatal to their liberties. 

[1763.] The proposition to lay a stamp- tax was first 
made under Egremont's administration, but a change in the 
cabinet prevented it from being immediately carried out. 
An excise, land-tax, and all other methods for raising a 
revenue seemed impracticable. But first came the Naviga- 
tion Act, forbidding America to trade with foreign nations 
and compelling her to buy only of England. All other 
trade was declared contraband, and custom-house officers 
were sent over, and national vessels ordered to cruise along 
our coasts to make seizure of all goods that had not come 
through English ports. This aroused a storm of indigna- 
tion, and the colonists, finding no other mode of revenge, 
began to do without English manufactures. The loom and 



102 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the spiiming-wlieel were soon liecard in every part of the 
land. Boston took the lead, the inhabitants refusing even 
to wear gloves at funerals. Other towns followed the 
example, and English manufactures instead of finding a 
freer market than before met a more stringent one. This, 
with other burdens imposed on commerce, agitated deeply 
the public mind. But vexatious and unjust as this policy 
was, the colonists felt that Parliament had a right to regu- 
late commerce, and no serious resistance was made ; but 
when the next spring a resolution passed the House of 
Commons [March 10th 17G4] to lay a stamp-tax, the indig- 
nation broke over all bounds. AYhat, taxation without 
representation 1 this was not only tyranny to the colonists 
but treason to the British constitution. Franklin, who was 
in London, wrote home to Thompson, " The sun of liberty 
is set, the Americans must light the lamp of industry and 
economy." "Be assured," said Thompson in reply, "we 
shall light torches of another sort." 

The resolution not being acted on this year the inhabi- 
tants had time to consider it. The universal rage however 
with which it was received, breaking down old rivalries, 
healing bitter feuds, and harmonizing elements hitherto at 
war, showed clearly what the inevitable result would be of 
pressing the measure upon them. It was like the " Truce 
of God," which banded in brotherly love kings and princes 
who had long been at war, and reconciled ancient foes to 
hurl them like a single man against the infidel. This 
odious tax Avas the topic of common conversation, clubs 
were formed to discuss it, and the assemblies of the different 
states dispatched agents to England with their firm remon- 
strances against it. 

Notwithstanding all these indications of an Approaching 
storm, the English government fully believed that tlie colo- 
nies were too feeble and timid to offer any effectual resistance, 
and the next year [March 8th, 1765] the stamp-tax became 




CHAIUIN-G COLONKI, W o O i. AS P K O X Y .OR W A S .1 I ^- O T .V 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 105 

a law. Its discussion in the House of Commons brought 
the administration and its enemies into fierce and terrible 
collision. During it, Colonel Barre, who had stood side by 
side with General Wolf on the Plains of Abraham, delivered 
that short, unpremeditated and thrilling speech, in reply to 
Charles Townsend's interrogation, "And will these Ameri- 
can children, planted by our care, nourished up by our 
indulgences to a degree of strength and opulence, and pro- 
tected by our arms, grudge to contribute their mite to 
relieve us from the heavy burden under which we lie ?" 
Springing to his feet, the fiery soldier replied, " They 
planted by your care ! No, your oppressions planted them in 

America They nourished hy your indulgence ! They 

grew by your neglect of them. As soon as you began to 
care about them, that care was exercised in sending persons 
to rule them in one department and another, who were per- 
haps the deputies of deputies to some members of the 
House, sent to spy out their liberties, to misrepresent their 
actions, and to prey upon them, whose behavior on many 
occasions has caused the blood of these sons of liberty to 

recoil within them They protected hy your arms! 

They have nobly taken up arms in your defense, have 
exerted a valor amidst their constant and laborious industry, 
for the defense of a country whose frontier was drenched in 
blood, while its interior parts yielded all its little earnings 
to your emolument." 

With a warning to the government to desist from its 
rash and perilous course, he sat down. A breathless 
silence followed this sudden and impassioned address, 
bursting as it did from a soul on fire. J. Ingersoll, of Con- 
necticut, sat in the gallery and listened to it. By the next 
packet he dispatched it to the colonies. "Sons of Liberty!" 
was the baptismal name pronounced in the British Parlia- 
ment. " Sons of Liberty" echoed the men of Boston, and 
organized into a band under that name. A large tree stood 



106 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

on the corner of Washington and Essex streets, which they 
christened " Liberty Tree,''^ and beneath its branches assem 
bled from time to time to deliberate on the momentous 
question of taxation. 

Southward swept the flame of rebellion. Virginia, whose 
House of Burgesses had ever been distinguished for stubborn 
resistance to every assumption of authority by the governor, 
" rang the alarum bell," and sent her thriUing accents of 
defiance on. The assembly was in session when the news 
arrived, and though the denunciations were loud and deep, 
no one seemed inclined to take the lead in the House till 
Patrick Henry, who had been a member but a few days, 
snatching a fly-leaf from old Coke upon Lyttleton, wrote 
five daring resolutions upon it, and rising read them to the 
utter astonishment of all. He declared that the colonies 
alone had power to levy taxes, and defended his resolutions 
with an eloquence and boldness that electrified the House. 
Kindling on the glorious theme of Human Liberty, he 
poured forth with impassioned fervor and vehement energy 
those noble sentiments which soon found an echo in every 
part of the land. Forgetting for a moment every thing but 
the great subject which engrossed his soul, he suddenly 
exclaimed, " Coesar had his Brutus — Charles the First his 
Cromwell, and George the Third — " "Treason!" shouted 
the defaulting Speaker Robinson. "Treason! Treason!" 
rang through the House. Pausing till the echo of the 
damning accusation had died away, he turned his flashing 
eye full on the speaker and shouted, " maj/ profit by their 
example! If this he treason, make the most of it!" A fierce 
and exciting debate followed, but it was only like the occa- 
sional wind gusts heard in the pauses of the thunder. 
Henry's eloquence rolled over and drowned every thing 
else. His resolutions were carried. 

Washington sat there a witness of the scene, and gazed, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 107 

one may well imagine with what feelings, on the inspired 
countenance of the yomig and fearless orator. 

The flame spread on every side. British ministers were 
hung in effigy on Liberty Tree. Associations were formed 
to reject all British manufactures. Peoi^le in Philadelphia 
refused to eat mutton, that they might have more wool for 
domestic use. Ladies of the first rank dressed in home- 
spun. The stern Puritan clergy cried " To your tents, oh 
Israel !" When the churchmen preached loyalty to the 
Lord's anointed, " The People,''' retorted William Livings- 
ton, "are the Lord's anointed." The "Stamp Act" was 
hawked about the streets of New York, under the title of 
" Folly of England and Ruin of America." 

South Carolina heard the bugle-blast of Virginia and 
Massachusetts, and snatching up the trumpet, through her 
Gadsden, blew a call so clear, loud and glorious, that the 
heart of the nation leaped up at the sound. With the 
lofty, fearless and eloquent Gadsden at the South, tlie fiery 
patriot Patrick Henry in Virginia, and the sanest madman 
that ever became an Oracle of the Gods, Otis of Boston, at 
the North, there was no danger of lack of energy or 
courage. " Death to the man who offers a piece of stamped 
'paper to sell!''' shouted the people of Boston. Bonfires, 
harangues, threats, riots and violence, filled the officers of 
government with alarm. Hutchinson of Connecticut fled 
to his castle. The stamp-officer of Bhode Island, trembling 
for his life, resigned at the clamors of the mob. The house 
of the stamp-master of Annapolis was leveled to the ground 
by the infuriated multitude. Ingersoll, stamp-master of 
Connecticut, fled in terror from New Haven with the gover- 
nor. In his flight he met first two, then five, and a little 
after thirty, and finally five hundred men on horseback, 
armed with clubs cut from the forest and stripped of their 
bark. Three bugles heralded their approach, and o])ening 
to the right and left they received into their midst the 



108 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

trembling stamp-officer. Halting in the main street of 
Wethcrsfield, they bade him resign. Ingersoll, having 
retired to a house, hesitated and delayed. The j3eople grew 
more and more indignant, and at length their swelling shout 
for vengeance so alarmed him that he obeyed, saying, 
"After all, it is not worth dying for." 

*' Swear to the writing," cried the mob. Ingersoll 
refused. " Then shout for Liberty and Property three 
times," they cried. " Liberty and Property !" shouted the 
crest-fallen stamp-master. Then three loud huzzas rent the 
air. A thousand men had now assembled, each Avith his 
white cudgel, and gathering round Ingersoll, escorted him 
with the sound of bugles to Hartford, and there, in the pre- 
sence of the legislature, made him read his resignation. 
Xu his journey thither he rode a white horse, and some one 
asking him what he thought of the strange cavalcade ac- 
companying him, he replied that he now had a clearer 
idea, than ever before, of that passage in the Revelations 
which describes Death on the pale horse and hell follow im^ him. 
Thus officer after officer was compelled to resign, until but 
one, Hughes, the Quaker of Philadelphia, remained. Toss- 
ing on his bed of sickness, he at last heard the muffied 
drums beating their mournful throbs, and the deep toll of 
the bell of the State House sending its dull echoes over the 
city, followed by the still more alarming sound, the muffled 
tread of excited men on their march to his dwelling, and 
trembling for his life, reluctantly yielded and promised to 
resign. 

In the midst of this excitement, the First Congress of the 
colonies met at New York [Oct. 7th, 1765,] and laid the 
foundation of their liberty. The excitement was not con- 
fined to this country, ))ut spread to England, and when in 
the following winter Parliament asseml)led, the question of 
the Colonies absorbed all others. A noble attempt was 
made to repeal the Stamp Act, and during the discussioD 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 109 

Pitt uttered those memorable words which so startled the 
House of Commons, and thrilled every heart on this conti- 
nent — " I rejoice that America has resisted!" 

The Stamp Act was reaffirmed. It however again came 
up, on a motion to repeal it, and Franklin was summoned 
to the bar of the House, to give information respecting the 
state of the colonies, and of their ability and willingness to 
pay the stamp-duty. After a long examination on various 
points, Grenville asked him if he thought the people would 
pay the stamp duty if modified. " No, never, ''^ he rej^lied — 
" they will never submit to it." 

When the final vote on the repeal was to be taken, the 
lobbies were crowded with spectators, waiting with breath- 
less interest to hear the decision. At length when, toward 
morning, the resolution was carried, loud shouts made the 
roof of St. Stephen's ring. Around Conway, who had 
fought nobly for the principles of right from first to last, 
the multitude gathered with tears of gratitude, while they 
opened right and left to let the chair of the crippled Pitt 
pass, and reverently uncovered their heads, many attending 
him even to his door. 

When the news reached America, the countrj^- was 
thrown into a delirium of excitement. All winter long 
there had been meetings of excited men, and a black and 
threatening cloud seemed settling on the colonies. The 
repeal of the Stamp Act was like the sudden bursting forth 
of the sun in the midst of darkness. The bell nearest 
Liberty Tree in Boston, was set ringing. From the tall 
steeple drooped countless gay banners, and from every win- 
dow and house-top flaunted flags and streamers, making the 
bright May morning look still brighter and promise a fiir 
more glorious summer than that of fruits and flowers. The 
prison-doors were thrown open, and every poor debtor was 
allowed to go forth once more a free man, and mingle in 
the general joy. In the evening the town was one blaze 



110 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

of fire. Liberty Tree bent under the weight of lanterns and 
illuminated figures of the ehamj^ions of repeal. Bonfires 
were kindled, iu'c-works set off, while the town shook to the 
shouts of the multitude and the roar of cannon. South- 
ward swept the general exultation, till the land echoed with 
the clamor of bells and the acclamations of men. 

This joy, however, was soon damped by the reception of 
the Military Act quartering soldiers in Boston. Besides, the 
repeal of the Stamp Act was now understood not to be a 
concession of principle on the part of Great Britain, or even 
a permanent act of expediency. The imposition, not long 
after, of duties on tea, paper, glass, and painters' colors, was 
the same thing under a different form, and aroused the 
same spirit of resistance with which the Stamp Act had 
been met. 

The repeal of the Stamp Act was hailed by Washington 
with delight. He had declared it a " direful attack on the 
liberties of the colonists." So the imposition of new duties 
filled him with " indignation." From Boston to Georgia 
the people were again thoroughly aroused, and catching the 
notes of preparation which now began to be seriously 
sounded, he said, " That no man should scru^^le or hesitate 
to take up arms in defense of so valuable a blessing (as 
freedom) is clearly my opinion," though it should be the 
last resort. The associations formed every where to perse- 
cute English manufacturers and trade, met his approval. 
Mason drew up an agreement for the House of Burgesses, 
and Washington presented it, in which every signer pro- 
mised not to buy or use the interdicted articles. They put 
their names to it in a body, and Washington ever after 
when he made out orders for England, forbade his corre- 
spondent to send any of those included in the agreement. 

Thus the affairs of the colony, with now and then a lull 
in the excitement, were pushed toward the crisis of open 
rebellion. England, uuder the pressure, finally took off all 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Ill 

duties except the one on tea. The colonists then refused 
to drink tea, and it accumulated in the English warehouses. 
No man was found bold enough to be its consignee on these 
shores. The East India Company endeavored to get a 
cargo into Boston harbor, but the citizens in the garb of 
Indians threw it overboard. This act of violence was fol- 
lowed by the famous Port Bill, by which Boston was to be 
shut up, and Salem used as the port of the colony. To 
carry out this and reduce the rebellious spirit of the colo- 
nists, troops were ordered over to be quartered on- the 
people. 

When the Assembly of Virginia met, one of their first 
acts was to pass resolutions of sympathy for Boston, and 
appoint a day of fasting and prayer. Lord Dunmore, the 
governor, irritated at this act of disloyalty, dissolved the 
Assembly. The members immediately reassembled, at a 
tavern, and, among other acts, recommended the call of a 
general congress, to deliberate on the course to be pursued. 
They then dispersed with the exception of twenty-five, of 
whom Washington was one. These remained to keep the 
fast which had been appointed, Washington inscribed in 
his diary, " I went to church, a,nd fasted all daJ/V 

He, with the other twenty-four, having in the meantime 
received a message from the Bostonians requesting the colo- 
nies to join them in a non-importation act, issued a call for 
another convention of the delegates. During the interval 
the separate counties held meetings to determine on the 
instructions that should be given their representatives in 
this convention. In Fairfax county Washington was elected 
chairman of the meetings in which the famous Fairfax 
resolutions were adopted. Those resolves show the firm 
determination of Washington to resist the encroachments 
of the mother country. Mr. Bryan Fairfax having with- 
drawn from the meetings on account of tlie bold and de- 
cided ground taken, Washington addressed him a long letter 



112 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

of explanation. After showing the conduct of Parliament 
toward the colonies, and proving clearly its designs, he 
asks, "What hope have we then from petitioning, when they 
tell us that now or never is the time to fix the matter? 
Shall we after this whine and cry for relief, when we have 
already tried it in vain ? Or shall we supinely sit and see 
one province after another fall a sacrifice to despotism ?" 
These sentences have the ring of the true metal, and seem 
almost to have been embodied in the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. He was opposed to addressing the throne fur- 
ther. "There is no relief for us (said he) but in their dis- 
tress/' (referring to the non-importation scheme,) " and I 
think, at least I hope, there is public virtue enough left 
among us to deny ourselves every thing but the bare neces- 
saries of life to accomplish this end." Far-seeing and 
practical, he no longer puts faith in eloquent appeals and 
addresses. With the same stubborn adherence to facts 
which had always characterized him, he says, " Starvation 
is the remedy !" 

The convention met on the 1st of August, and adopted, 
with very little change, the Fairfiix resolutions — " No more 
slaves, British goods, or tea," said they, " shall with our 
sanction enter the colony." 

In answer to the call for a general congress to meet at 
Philadelphia on the 5th of September, the convention ap- 
pointed seven delegates, one of whom was Washington,* 

The first great united step was now to be taken, and 
every e3'e was turned toward that assembly. Lee and 
Henry stopped on their way for Washington, and the three 
rode on together to Philadelphia. Washington, with his 
stately form and calm, self-possessed mind; Henry with his 
fervid zeal and boiling courage, and Lee with his rich and 
flowing language, formed an interesting trio, and grand and 

• The others were Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, Patrick Henry, Richard 
Blond, Benjamin Harrison and Edmund Pendleton. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 113 

glorious must have been the words spoken us thoy passed 
through the thriving settlements on whose doom they were 
about to pronounce. 

Congress met, but as the debates were never published, 
there is no record left of the part taken in them by Wash- 
ington. Dickinson drafted a petition to the king and to the 
people of Quebec ; Jay an appeal to the inhabitants of 
Great Britain ; Lee a third to the Colonies ; and Congress 
adjourned to wait the response to all these before taking the 
final step. The feelings, however, which Washington car- 
ried into Congress and brought out with him, may be 
gathered from his reply to a letter written him by Captain 
Mackenzie, then in Boston. Speaking of the direful issue 
to which things were tending, he said, *' give me leave to 
add, as my opinion, that more blood will be spilled on this 
occasion, if the ministry are determined to push matters to 
extremity, than history has ever yet furnished instances of 
in the annals of North America." A prediction worth 
considering, and which shows that he who uttered it had 
counted the cost, settled his purpose, and stood prepared to 
move into that scene of blood and carnage, whether it came 
sooner or later, a strong defender of the right. 

An incident occurred at the opening of this Congress^ 
to which after circumstances gave a peculiar significance. 
It was proposed to call in a clergyman to invoke the 
aid of the Divine Being, and Mr. Duche was sent for. 
Among other portions of the exercises, he read a part of 
the 35th Psalm. A rumor had reached Philadelphia the 
morning previous, that Boston had been cannonaded by the 
British, and every heart was filled with anxious forebodings. 
The members stood during prayers, all except Washington. 
He alone knelt — thus by mere accident separating himself 
as it were from the rest, by an act indicating that he more 
than they all needed to bow in the dust and plead for 
help from Heaven. As he knelt down — the proudest form 

T 



114 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

there — it seemed as if God had singled him out to be the 
Joshua of the hosts of Freedom. The house was still as 
the grave as the earnest accents of the clergyman fell on 
liis ear. 

" Plead my cause, Lord, with them that strive with me : 
fght against them that fight against me. Take hold of shield 
and buckler and stand up for mine help. Draw out also the 
spear and stop the loay against them that persecute me: say unto 
my soul I am thy salvation." 

The reading of this Psalm was wholly unpremeditated, it 
being a part of the regular service of the day. hence it 
seemed almost like the voice of God speaking directly to 
them. After it was finished Mr. Duche, overwhelmed with 
the solemnity of the occasion, broke out to the astonish- 
ment of all in an extemporaneous prayer, beseeching God 
to save the land from the evils that overhung it. 

Congress adjourned to wait the effect of their several ap- 
peals, and Washington returned to his firm. The impres- 
sion he had made on that assemblage of great men may be 
gathered from a remark of Patrick Henry. Wlien asked 
on hie? return whom he thought the greatest man in Con- 
gress, replied — '* If you speak of eloquence, Mr. Rutledge 
of South Carolina is unquestionably the greatest orator ; but 
if you speak of solid information and sound judgment, 
Colonel Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on 
that floor." With such a reputation one can imagine what 
profound silence fell on the House when he rose to speak, 
and what earnest, respectful attention was given to the 
opinions he uttered. 

In the meantime independent companies were formed in 
various parts of Virginia, and Washington was solicited to 
take command of them as field-officer. He accepted, and 
meeting them at the various places of rendezvous, reviewed 
the troops and instructed the officers. 

While affiiirs maintained this semi-tranquil state in Vir- 




^VAhlllNCilON b WKDDING. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 117 

ginla, events around Boston were crowding to a crisis. 
Collisions had taken place between the people and military — 
blood had been shed, and the cry for vengeance gone over 
the land. The inhabitants passed the soldiers with a scowl 
and half-muttered curses, and it was equally apparent to 
General Gage, the British commander, and to Hancock, 
Adams, Otis, Ward and other patriotic leaders, that every 
thing was tending to open war. A provincial Congress 
was formed, an army of minute-men raised, and the sup- 
plies of the British troops cut off. Gage, alarmed at the 
aspect of affairs, began to fortify the Neclc, and send off* 
detachments to seize gunpowder and cannon in the hands of 
the rebels. On the 18 th of April, Major Pitcairn was de- 
spatched with six companies to seize some cannon and 
stores at Concord. In dead silence, by the dim moonlight, 
Pitcairn, supposing his movements were unknown, passed 
•quietly out of Boston and pushed on towards Lexington. 
But news of his advance had preceded him, and towards 
daylight, as he approached Lexington, his ears were stunned 
by the loud ringing of bells, the roll of drums, and signal- 
guns of the Americans. Dimly looming through the gray 
mist of morning the scarlet uniforms appeared pressing in 
a compact mass toward the village green, on which a hun- 
dred militia were drawn up in confusion. Halting in front, 
the troops cooly loaded their pieces. Pitcairn then galloped 
forward and exclaimed — " Disperse, you villains — throw 
down your arms and disperse !" The summons not being 
immediately obeyed, he shouted " Fire !" and the signal- 
gun of American independence was fired, and the knell of 
British empire on this continent sounded. Eight patriots, 
the first holocaust to Freedom, were slain, when the rest 
dispersed, and the troops pressed forward to Concord, six 
miles distant. Destroying what stores and arms they could 
lay hands on there, they were about to retire, when the 
brave Hosmer led four hundred militia to the attack. The 



118 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

firing had attracted the surrounding farmers, and thej now 
came pouring in from every quarter. The British, alarmed 
at this sudden uprising of the people, began their retreat. 
But the woods seemed alive with minute-men. From every 
barn, and fence, and house, sped the unerring ball, as 
closing darker and fiercer on the flying traces of the enemy, 
the enraged patriots pressed forward to the attack. 

Wearied, mortified and disgraced, the troops at length 
reached Charlestow^n, with the loss of two hundred and 
seventy- three. 

The day w^ent out in gloom. Silent terror or burning 
rage filled every bosom. Adams and "Warren and Ward 
and Otis, and others, rejoiced, for they knew that the clock 
of Destiny had now struck the hour. Their great, grand 
hearts, though throbbing with anxiety and sympathy for the 
people, could not refrain from swelling with triumph and 
joy, that liberty had at last found defenders, and that the 
conflict was set. While friends were committing with more 
anger than sorrow the dead to the grave, men on horseback 
with a drum at their saddle-bow, were flying over the coun- 
try, calling the inhabitants to arms. Past lonely farm- 
houses, through the thin settlements, the swift riders sped 
on, beating the alarm drum and shouting, " To arms !" As 
the clatter of the horse's hoofs and the tap of the drum 
came and went, wives gazed wdth pale faces on their hus- 
bands, mothers with quivering lips, handed down the trusty 
firelock to their sons, and sisters weej^ing filled the scanty 
knapsacks of their brothers ; yet one and all said, " Go ! 
in God's name go and strike for liberty !" And they went 
pouring forward to Boston. 

Putnam was in the field mending his fence when the 
rider, breathless with haste and excitement, reined up oppo- 
site him, and, dismounting, hurried to where he stood. 
" The streets of Lexington and Concord have been soaked 
in blood, and the country is in a blaze !" was the fearful 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 119 

message lie delivered. Leaving his oxen where they stood, 
not stopping to say good-by to his wife, Putnam leaped ou 
his swiftest horse, and was soon seen tearing along the road 
toward Boston. In ten minutes after the messenger had 
delivered the same fearful tidings to Stark, he was in the 
saddle and galloping for the same rendezvous. For a long 
time the New England colonies had been expecting the 
resort of the enemy to violence, and minute-men had been 
chosen and signals agreed on, by which the fatal news 
was to be transmitted to the remotest section. A swift 
rider, with a drum by his side, was to speed along the great 
thoroughfxres from colony to colony; but in the side- 
settlements other arrangements had been made, and in an 
incredible short space of time, it was known in the obscurest 
corner of the provinces. It was as if powder had been laid 
in trains all over the land, and a single torch had ignited 
the whole into a tracery-work of fire, flashing, leaping hea- 
venward. The news reached Stockbridge, one of the oldest 
and most western settlements in Massachusetts, on Sunday 
morning, and the inhabitants of that peaceful valley were 
thunderstruck, as they saw their deacon, a Jew of the Jews 
in his observance of the Sabbath, step out of his door and 
deliberately discharge his musket. The next moment 
another pillar in the church emerged from his door and 
fired his piece. This was the signal agreed upon to inform 
the inhabitants when blood had been shed. Those musket- 
shots started the farmer where he knelt at the family altar 
or sat reading God's word to his family. The young father, 
at the sound, set down the child he was dandling on his 
knee and, with a glance at his pallid wife, seized his gun ; 
the aged sire, preparing to go to the house of God, cast one 
look on the boy of his love and the prop of his old age, 
and, as it met the quivering lip and mantling cheek and 
flashing eye, he said, " Go, and God's blessing go with 
you!" In a short time men, singly and in groups, were 



VJO I, I V K O V W \S 11 I N (i TO N. 

soon Nvalkiui; w illi rapid shiJos towarvl tln» Iumiso (»(* tlio 
Uoaoou. It \v;i.>< a i'i>M ihi/vliMi; nnuuiui:;. luul as thoy 
urrivvvl l\\c\ Awstcivd on (lio sUn>p o( tho ItiiiMini;'. ap- 
jvuxMitlv awaiting si>iuo ono. Altera littlo iutoiNal. tlunr 
pastor. Ml. ^\l^"^t, was si\Mi v-vMuiui:; iK>\vn [Uc lull, with a 
UiMo uihlor his arm. With oaiv luul anxioty dopii"ti>ii on 
liis I'vuiiitouanoo. ho ualUisl soloiunlv xnio thoir iniilst. A 
(oNv woixlstoUl tlu* talo. IK> thou i^pomxl tho l^ihlo. ivail 
an appu^priato ohaptor. iiuulo a tow ivinarks. auvl lil'tod his 
tixMuMing voioo iu piavor. *• Ami now mav tho hU\><sinj; of 
(uhI Ahuijihtv ic^^ with voii ami noivo vvnii hoait ami una iu 
tho ilay of Uittlo," siiiil tho atlliotod pastor, and tunuxl away, 
Uefore turtve o\'h\'k, from that little scttlrmrnt tirentt/ sturdy 
w*rt, with hua^mich on their backs ami mttskets in their hands, 
had starteii on J\n^ for liiktton, ttco hundn-d miles distant. 
Tlioiv woit) men m those dixys — (mh/'a* men, wortliy to found 
an oinpiiv. Oli, how that qnostion must havo takon hold 
o( thoir souls, w hou it usur{vd ovou tho dutios ot' tho holy 
Sa\»hath. It was nunv saoivd than tho wvnsliip oi' tho 
{iiuiotuarv, it was im\o w itli ivli^iou, and. toarlovssly apjvalini; 
to IuhI and tho fuial judi:;n\ont for tho cvniploto vimlioatitvii 
o( thoir ivndnot. thov nio\ ovl ivsolutoly into tho strifo. All 
mor tho laml was this nuuvoKnK>^ uprising o( tho people, 
till tho rvnids loadin-j; to Inv^^tou woiv blaok with men iu 
thoir homospun ^arlvs. au(l svhui noarly twonty thous;uul 
sto^nl on tho hoights that ovorlook tlio oity. 

Whilo thoso stirring soonos woiv [vussing in M:^ss;lohnsotU^ 
tho stvond Coutinontal (Vngiw^s was assonibling at Fhila- 
dolphia. Cnuornor PunuKuv. of Virginia, Imd rtvoivod 
oi\lors to ivuiovo military stoivs, oto.. out o( the ivaoh of 
tho wlonists. Tho attou>pt ^vt' CuMioral Clagv^ to oxooute a 
similar onlor. had bnnight on tho oontliot wt Lexington ami 
Tonooixl. Ounnunv ohos^^ tho samo hour as CiJigo to c:vry 
out his plan, and at mivlnight had all tho ammunition !»• 
Ulov^^l to a \\^s<.d in tho rivor. Patriok Henry ho;u\l of it 



Livi-: or w A -III s (,']■() s. J2I 

;if, ]];i.!i<)Vi;r, u.ii<\ 'iini(i(:<\'r'ii<;\y cm.W'iu'j Uj'^<-J.]ii:r li'i;-, voIijm- 
U'J'AH, !fi''U<:\i<'<\ to VVJIIJamHfjijrg and f;o/ri|/<'ll''/J ih'? ;fOvt;nior 
to pay thf; full arfiounf, of f,h'; pow'J';r. iJ'; thf-n 'i'rparf/;'] 
for ConjirrcH;-!. 'I'fi'; h<;';on'J (l')iiirn;HH, frj';t[.Ma/ JO, 177';,] 
vvjfii ?/loofrjy for ';fjo'JingH. 'J'h';ir j/;fJf.JoriH t/> tJj'; kin;.^ }j;i/J 
fjf'/^ri itdiiUid wjtii (;<)uU;U\]t\., -.uA no/,'/ (mint'^/'/ri jjfCj'itidmU'A 
on Ihf; IWjt'jiU'.H of tjjfi coloni'tH. iilood Wi h'jfjn Klj<;fJ, an'l 
it wan f;vJ'J'',rjt 1/; f;vf;ry on'; that "an app'jal f/> arm.-; and 
tfj^i God of [jattlcH wan all that wan J':ft" thf.rn. 'i'lj*; fir-.t 
thing to Ui <i()!if'.h\<-j<-/\ wiKH ilta nUiUt of th'; country, tho 
wtcMiA if} pr(;paro for op^-.n hontilitif^H. S^r/cral cornmittyfc<;H 
wore apf>oinWl, and it iH a littl/j Hingular that ^^''nr^^'lnf£U)n 
vfiiH mii/[(i cMiurm'.in of every one. Jn the dehaf/^H of the 
firnt CongroHH fio rnunt have nhown r;i.re ahih'ty, and depth 
and HOundnoHH of judgment K'jJdorri witrieHH^d, t/j have Ujeri 
thuH Keleeted, a« it were, f/j control every fy>rnmitt/je ap- 
j/jinted hy a Congrenn of rnen never HurpaHHed in inf/dleet 
and virtue. Among the mo-.t imporf^xnt aetn to he done 
wa.s the appoJntm<;nt of a eommander-in-eljief. Amid the 
conflicting feeling.-; of the colonintn, and the high claim that 
Ma.~,-;;j/;hur:ett« hfj/I t/j that horjor, thin became a very deli caf/j 
affair, in tPxe mean time, Samuel Adamn aro«^i, arirl mored 
that tlje army h.r/r4irfi})U'A aronnd JWni/m 8hould be a^lopt/^1 
by (yfmincaHH a.H the Continental army. In Hii«t^iining his 
rcr/Jution, he remarked that he intended t/j nominat/i a 
member of that honvi i'r<)Ui Virginia aH fy>»mmander-In-chief. 
HiH rerriarkH and alliinions point^id ho (Yircj-Aly Uj Washing- 
ton, that the ktf/ir arohe and left the ho^F/;. Wljen the 
flay for balloting came, he wa:-; unanimouHly electf^d. 

The next morning, immedlat^^ly afU^r the cy^nvening of 
CongroHH, the prcHident aro.sc and announced to Wa«hingt/^n 
hi« apf/jlntment. The Ixttter briefly expreHB^id hin thanks 
for the high honor c^>inferred on him and for the confidenf;c 
thu.s expreH.%d in hLs ability, and then added — '' Lent .^iomc? 



122 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTOX. 

imluck}^ event should happen unflivorable to my reputation, 
I bog it may be remembered by every gentleman in the 
room, that I this day declare, with the utmost sincerity, I 
do not think myself equal to the command I am honored 
with." Referring to the salary of $G,000 a year, which 
had been voted him, he said — " I beg leave to assure Con- 
gress that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted 
me to accept this arduous employment at the expense of 
my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any 
profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my ex- 
penses ; these, I dou1)t not, they will discharge, and that is 
all I desire." No, indeed, it was not worth while to think 
of monej-making in the perilous path he was about to 
tread. The future was all unknown, even should his life 
be spared ; success as yet was only a vague dream, and, if 
he failed, his vast fortune would be confiscated and his wife 
become a beggar. But this, too, was a mere item ; if he 
failed he would hang as high as Haman, or spend his re- 
maining days in some remote Botany Bay, eating the bread 
of exile and fretting his great soul away in the fetters of a 
felon. But, like one greater even than he, and speaking of 
a still nobler cause, he could say, " none of these things 
move me, neither count I my life dear unto me." 

Of Washington's communings that night to himself, after 
he had retired to his solitarj^ chamber, we have no record. 
It is strange that one who kept a diary from the time he was 
sLxteen years old, and often of facts trivial in themselves, 
never alludes to his feelings. "We read that diary, extend- 
ing through years, without ever once penetrating into his 
inward life. Unlike Cromwell, he discloses none of his in- 
ward struggles, secret griefs, misgivings, fears or hopes. His 
acts are the world's, his thoughts his own, and he moves 
before us always in light, j'-et always in shade. If Wash- 
ington had left us a record of his thoughts, even during the 



LIFE OF WASHIX(3-T0X. 123 

single night afi-er he had cast life and fortune and character 
in a desperate struggle, what an insight should we get of 
his character. His family, that he probably would never 
see again, his honor, his name, above all, the fate of a free 
people now committed to his trust, occupied in turn his 
thoughts and awakened into painful intensity his sympathies 
and his solicitude. He was a commander without an availa- 
ble army and without munitions of war, and was required 
to deliver a nation already bankrupt, and soon to be rent by 
civil war, from the armies and fleets of the strongest em- 
pire on the globe. He was not one of those who build 
hopes on dreams, and can be cheated into security by the 
illusions of fancy. The future lay clear before him ; that 
is, it was darkness unrelieved by scarce a ray of light into 
which he was resolved to move with an undaunted heart, 
trusting in that God who often chooses the gloomiest hour 
in which to reveal his presence and extend his aid. That 
was not a night for sleep ; yet how little he conjectured, as 
he lay revolving the momentous responsibilities he had 
assumed, and the fearful issues to his country he was to 
decide, of what was then passing around Boston. All that 
night the strokes of the spade and pickaxe were falling 
quick and strong on Breed's Hill, and column after column 
of men was swiftlv and silentlv marchino; forward to the 
low redoubt that the morning sun would reveal to the 
astonished British. 

K Washington's appointment as commander-in-chief had 
been borne by viewless messengers to the army, the latter 
could not have hailed the news with more appropriate de- 
monstrations than it did. The tremendous cannonading 
from sea and land — the flames of burning Charlestown, and 
the high and ringing cheers from the intrenched heights, 
were a fit acknowledgment of an event destined to be so 
momentous in its final results. 

Four davs after he received his commission, and the 



124 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

next day, accomj^anied by Generals Schuyler and Lee,* 
started for Boston. A committee from the Provincial Con- 
gress of New York met him on the road and escorted him, 
amid the acclamations of the people, into the city. He had 
heard on the way rumors of the battle of Bunker Hill, but 
here he first became acquainted with all the particulars. 
The news made him eager to hasten forward, and escorted 
by volunteer companies, he proceeded to Springfield, where 
he was met by a committee from the Provincial Congress 
of Massachusetts. He found the country, as he passed 
through it, in a blaze of excitement, and the preparations 
to arm resoundmg on every side. The gallant defense of 
the militia at Bunker Hill, and the enthusiasm that pre- 
vailed, could not but be cheering to the new commander-in- 
chief; yet he well knew, from past experience, the dif- 
ference between a single enthusiastic defense of a position, 
and the harassing, disheartening duties of a long campaign. 
He reached Cambridge on the 2d of July, and the next 
morning walked to the great elm-tree standing on the Com- 
mon, and, drawing his sword, formall}' took command of 
the army. Loud acclamations rent the air, and hope and 
animation pervaded the ranks. The Provincial Congress, 
then sitting at Watertown, near by, presented an address, 
in which they pledged him their entire cooperation, and the 
most flattering testimonials poured in upon him from every 
quarter. He ascertained that the troops assembled num- 
bered nearly 15,000 men, while the British force in and 
around Boston amounted to 11,500. But the troops now 
christened as the " Continental Army" were as motley a 
set as ever gathered under one banner. There was no or- 
ganization, no unity. The militia of the different provinces 

• These, together with Artemas Ward and Israel Putnam, had been appointed 
major-pcnerals ; and Seth Ponicroy, Richard Montgomery, David Wooster, Wil- 
liani Heath, Joseph Speucer, John Thomas, John Sullivan, and Nathaniel Greene, 
brigadiers. 




W A S II I N (» T O N l> II A <; fj I N C r II i; I" O A f II i: if a S II O H K. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 127 

acknowledged no authority but that of their several com- 
manders, while the excitement and enthusiasm had called 
together not only true patriots, but adventurers of every 
description. To render matters still worse, this heteroge- 
neous multitude were almost without ammunition. But, 
notwithstanding the disorders that prevailed among, them, 
there was the groundwork of a noble army. Intrenchments 
had already been thrown up, and a line of defense com- 
pleted from the Mystic river to Roxbury, twelve miles in 
extent, entirely hemming in the British army. The en- 
campment of the Americans presented a strange yet pic- 
turesque spectacle. Scarcely any but the Rhode Island 
troops had tents. The extemporaneous shelter thrown up 
evinced the craft of the frontiersman rather than the know- 
ledge of the soldier. Here stood a collection of rude stone 
hovels, with an opening that looked like the entrance to a 
cavern ; there a group of board pens, made of slabs and 
sticks patched with sails ; while farther on were scattered 
turf mounds, hastily thrown up, and looking more like the 
home of the prairie wolf than the abodes of men ; yet all 
showing where the strong-limbed citizen-soldier slept. The 
handsome marquees of the officers, here and there relieving 
the dilajDidated, fragmentary character of the encampment, 
completed the singular spectacle. 

On the 4th of July, a day made afterward still more 
iaemorable by the glorious Declaration of Independence, 
Washington issued his first general order to the Continental 
t rmy. In this, after expressing the hope that all jealousies 
i f the different colonies would be laid aside, and the only 
contest be who should render the greatest aid to the com- 
mon cause, and insisting on discipline and subordination, he 
says — " The general most earnestly requires and expects a 
due observance of those articles of war established for the 
government of the army, which forbid profane cursing, 
swearing and drunkenness ; and in like manner he requires 



128 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and expects of all ofHcers and soldiers, not engaged on 
actual duty, a i^unctual attendance on divine service, to 
implore the blessings of Heaven upon the means used for 
our safety and defense." Such an order read to an Euro- 
pean arm}' would have stunned them more than the an- 
nouncement of treason in their commander. But Washing- 
ton wished it understood at the outset, both by his troops 
and the whole world, that the cause in which he had em- 
barked was a holy one, and must be disfigured by none of 
those excesses which are considered a necessary part of a 
camp life. Reverently fixing his eye on Heaven, he sum- 
mons his followers to look thither also, ever fervently 
praying for that help which alone can come from above. 

The organization of the army which followed, proved an 
annoying and a difficult task. At the very outset murmurs 
and discontent arose at the appointment of the superior 
officers by Congress. Selecting generals, not for their 
ability and long service, but according to their locality', or 
to j^lease powerful friends, was one of the first false steps 
made by Congress, and from which it never receded through- 
out the war. This pernicious, perilous example, thus set at 
the very commencement of our national existence, the 
American government has ever since adhered to, with a 
pertinacity that no disgrace or humiliation can weaken. It 
covered us with defeat for two years in the war of 1812, 
and, but for the able officers given us by West Point, would 
have sent the army back discomfited from Mexico. 

The excitement that prevailed among the troops, on this 
account, threatened to disrupt the army ; but Washington, 
by promising to lay their complaints before Congress and 
get justice done, gradually allayed it. By arranging the 
brigades and regiments in such a manner that the troops 
from each colony should for the most part be under their 
own commander, he restored harmony. Still, many of 
them refused to sign the rules and regulations presented by 



LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 129 

Congress ; they had taken up arms to fight for liberty — not 
merely provincial, but personal liberty, and they were not 
going to sign it away to Congress any more than to Parlia- 
ment. Military despotism was a bugbear that constantly 
stood in the way of thorough organization of a regular 
army. This constant doubt of the purity of his intentions 
and practical distrust of his measures and plans, arrested 
Washington at every step, and would have disgusted, irri- 
tated and disheartened any other commander. Even Con- 
gress exhibited this jealousy of his power, fettering and 
baffling him, so that his plans were not the reflex of him- 
self, but rather a compromise of his own wisdom with the 
fears and demands and follies of those around him. There 
is no position so trying to a brave commander as this ; the 
most perilous breach is far preferable to it. It is in such 
circumstances as these that Washington's moral character 
rises in its grand and beautiful proportions befoi-e us. With 
the hot blood and chivalric daring of a southron, joined to 
the prudence, forecast and wisdom of the sage, he added 
the patience, forbearance and meekness of a Christian. 
Such a combination is the rarest on earth. Thus, while the 
delays, inaction and incomplete organization of the army 
around Boston have furnished apparently solid ground for 
historians to underrate his military ability, they in fact 
enhance it, by showing him firm and uncomplaining under 
circumstances far worse to be borne than defeat. Had that 
army been like a single instrument in Washington's hands, 
wielded at his will, the siege of Boston would have exhibited 
a brilliancy of manoeuvre, an energy and daring of action, 
that would have astonished his adversaries ; but, chaining 
Uis great soul and glowing heart to the wheels of a dilatory 
Congress and the clogs of prejudice and suspicion, he toiled 
slowly, patiently, like a bound giant, toward the object of 
his endeavors. He knew that the great majority of those 
who had gathered to his standard, however they might err 



130 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

in judgment, were true men and patriots at heart, and 
examj^le would tell on them in time. His practiced eye also 
soon discovered there were regiments whose noble devotion 
would carry them wherever he would lead. Morgan's rifle- 
men were a splendid body of men, and the words inscribed 
on their breasts, " Liberty or Death," were symbolical of 
the brave hearts that throbbed beneath. 

Pennsylvania and Maryland also responded to the call of 
Congress for troops, and the constant arrival of reinforce- 
ments kept the camp in a glow and filled the army with 
confidence and pride. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 131 



CHAPTER V. 

Washington Remonstrates against the Treatment of American Prisoners— Senda 
Arnold to Quebec — Want of Powder in the Army — A new Army raised — The 
National Flag first hoisted— Washington prevented from Assaulting the Enemy's 
Works— His feelings under the delay — Thinks of -the poor at home— " Boston 
Blockaded," a farce — Washington takes possession of Dorchester Heights — 
Howe resolves to storm them — Attempt abandoned, and the Evacuation of Bos- 
ton commenced— Sufferings of the Tories— Washington orders the Army to New 
York — Lee sent South — His Letter — Washington visits Congress— His Views of 
a Declaration of Independence — Defeat of the Northern Army — Attempt to 
spread disafiection in Washington's guard — Congress discusses the Declaration of 
Independence — Excitement in Philadelphia at the final vote — Its reception by 
the Army and People — Operations around New York— Howe's Letter to George 
Washington, Esq.— The assembling of the British force— State of the two 
Armies. 

While Washington was thus cautiously, slowly fusing the 
discordant elements together, and getting the army into 
manageable shape, he was told that the American prisoners 
taken at Bunker Hill were cruelly treated by the British — 
officers, soldiers and citizens being thrown indiscriminately 
into prison together. He immediately wrote to his old 
comrade in arms. General Gage, remonstrating against this 
treatment. Gage denied the charge, declaring it was an 
act of clemency on his part that they were not strung up 
on the gallows ; and as to the different rank of those who 
fell into his hands, he recognized no grade but that bestowed 
by the king. Washington, in replying to this insolent and 
dishonorable note, said, " You affect, sir, to despise all rank 
not derived from the same source as your own. I cannot 
conceive one more honorable than that which flows from 
the uncorrupted choice of a brave and free people, the 
purest source and original fountain of all power." He im- 
mediately, in retaliation for the treatment of Americans, 
ordered some British prisoners into the country, to be 
placed in close confinement. They had not proceeded far. 



132 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

however, before lie sent a dispatch countermanding the 
order, and requesting the Committee of Northampton, to 
whom they had been intrusted, to treat them with all pos- 
sible leniency. Just and politic as the measure was, his 
heart revolted at making the innocent suffer for the guilty. 

In the meantime. Congress had ordered General Schuyler 
to the Northern Department, to take St. John's, Montreal, 
and other portions of Upper Canada. Washington, seeing 
this movement would draw the British troops under Gov- 
ernor Carleton away from Quebec, resolved to send an ex- 
pedition against it across the wilderness. Eleven hundred 
men were put under Arnold, who had just returned from 
the capture of Ticonderoga. This extraordinary man 
entered upon the desperate undertaking with all the ener- 
gy, daring and high courage that distinguished him. Not- 
witlistanding the desertion of one of his officers, and the 
unparalleled difficulties that beset his way, he finally 
reached Quebec, and effected a junction with Montgomery. 
^\Tiile this expedition was progressing to its disastrous issue, 
Washington made preparations to fall on the English bat- 
teries and storm Boston. But no powder was to be had, 
while there remained only a few rounds to each man. This 
alarming state of things Washington dare not communicate, 
except to a few of his own officers, lest it should leak out 
and get to the ears of the British commander. To those 
who were ignorant of this fact, the inactivity that followed 
seemed unaccountable. 

A short time previous to this determination, he had 
caused six armed schooners to be fitted out, to cruise 
against the enemy in the neighborhood of Boston. Several 
captures were made, and among them one by Captain 
Manly, with a quantity of powder aboard. 

But now the term of enlistment of a large part of the 
army was drawing to a close. A new army must therefore 
be raised, and a committee from Congress came on to con- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 133 

suit with him on the best means of doing it. Six months 
had elapsed since the battle of Bunker Hill, and the excited 
expectations of the country had met with sad disappoint- 
ment. But now nothing could be done till the reorganiza- 
tion of the army was effected. This, however, proceeded 
slowly. Winter set in, and but five thousand recruits had 
arrived. So few of the old soldiers reenlisted, and they 
left in such numbers that Washington at one time feared he 
would be left without an army. But even for the few that 
remained no provision had been made, and as the frost and 
snows of December came on, the troops began to suffer 
severely, and a feeling of despondency weighed down both 
officers and men. The latter were scantily clothed and 
destitute of fuel. Some of the regiments ate their food raw 
for want of fire, while detached parties were seen in every 
direction carrying off fences, and cutting down fruit and 
shade trees, with which to kindle a meagre fire in their 
dilapidated cabins, through which the winds of winter 
whistled. Many of those who had joined the army with 
high spirits now began to think of their distant friends, and 
watching their opportunity, stole away from camp, and 
turned their footsteps homeward. The clouds gathered 
darker and darker around the head of Washington, and his 
heart was oppressed with the gravest fears, yet he still 
stood firm and serene, the pillar of hope to all around. As 
a last resort he issued a stirring call to the New England 
militia, which met with a warm response, and the hardy 
yeomanry came pouring in. Provisions were obtained, and 
in ten days a wonderful transformation was effected. The 
camp looked bright again, and the arrival, at nearly the 
same time, of Washington's wife and the wives of several 
of the other officers, gave to the holydays a cheerful aspect, 
anc" rekindled hope and confidence in the commander. The 
New left", which threatened to look on a disbanded army, 
beheld nearly "1t,C00 well ordered men. 

8 



134 LIFE OF AVASHINGTOX. 

On the first day of January the national flag of thirteen 
stripes was hoisted for the first time over the American 
army, and as it flaunted to the Avind, acclamations and 
shouts and salvos of artillery greeted it. As Washington's 
eye watched it undulating gracefully in the breeze, what 
thoughts must have filled his heart. The symbol of liberty, 
it was to move in front of his ])attalions to victory or defeat. 
In the fate of that flag was wrapped all that he hoped for 
or feared in life. From that moment its destiny and his 
own were to be one and the same. He expected to carry 
it, at the head of his columns, through smoke and carnage, 
perhaps be laid upon it in death after some hard fought 
field, but how little he dreamed what its marvelous history 
would be. What would have been his astonishment had it 
been whispered in his ear, " before all those who are now 
lookini!;on that flafr shall die. these thirteen colonies shall be 
thirty states, the three millions of people, for whose free- 
dom you are struggling, be more'than thirty." 

' The king's speech before Parliament, in which he de- 
clared that the most eflicient measures would be taken to 
put down the rebellion, but at the same time pardon would 
be extended to all who sued for it, arrived on the same day 
the flag was hoisted in the American camp. The salvos of 
artillery and rejoicings that signalized the latter event, 
Howe, who had succeeded Gage, took as an expression of 
joy over the gracious nature of the king's offer. 

Washington, who from the first had been very much em- 
"barrassed in prosecuting the siege of Boston, for want of 
"heavy cannon, at length dispatched Knox to the forts on 
Lake Champlain captured from the British, for them. About 
this time the latter returned, and the long train of forty- 
two sleds, laden with thirty-nine cannon, fourteen mortars, 
two howitzers, over two thousand pounds of lead, and a 
hundred barrels of flints, as it slowly entered the camp, put 
a new face on affaire, and Washington resolved to assault 




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LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 137 

the enemy's works at once. Congress was also anxious 
that the attack should be hurried forward. The regiments, 
however, were not yet filled, and at the council of officers 
called, a still further delay was decided upon. Nothing 
could be more irksome and irritating than the position in 
which Washington found himself. " I know," said he, "the 
unhappy predicament in which I stand; I know what is 
expected of me. I know that I cannot stand justified to 
the world without exposing my own weakness, and injuring 
the cause by declaring my wants, and my situation is so 
irksome to me at times that if I did not consult the public 
good more than my own tranquillity, I should, long ere this, 
put every thing on the cast of a die." That is,, if it had 
been a matter of mere personal reputation, he would have 
ended the suspense that galled him like a fetter, by one 
desperate onset. He regretted that he had been persuaded 
into delay on the promise of a larger and better army, and 
when he saw the disinclination of the soldiers to reenlist, 
he said, " could I have known that such backwardness 
would have been discovered by the old soldiers to the service, 
all the generals upon earth would not have convinced me of the 
propriety of delaying an attack on Boston till this time." 

In the midst of these trials and embarrassments came the 
news of Arnold's failure at Quebec, and Schuyler's in Can- 
ada, accompanied by a letter from the latter, requesting a 
reinforcement of three thousand men. But while envel- 
oped in perplexities, and his mind occupied by such vast 
and varied schemes, he had time to think of the jDOor on 
and around his plantation, and early in the winter he wrote 
home to Lady Washington, " Let the hospitality of the 
house, with respect to the poor, be kept up. Let no one go 
hungry away. If any of this kind of people should be in 
want of corn, supply their necessities, provided it does not 
encourage them in idleness." Although in the present 
condition of his affairs, and receiving nothing for his ser 



138 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

vices, the '' greatest frugality and economy" are demanded, 
he wishes two or three hundred dollars to be devoted annu- 
ally to the poor. Nothing escapes his all-embracing mind, 
and still more all-embracing heart. 

All this time the two armies lay only a mile apart, in full 
view of each other's operations, while the outposts were 
almost within speaking distance. Scarcely a day passed in 
Avhich there was not more or less cannonading by the enemy, 
to which the Americans, for want of powder, had to submit 
in silence. What little they had was reserved, as Washing- 
ton remarked, " for closer work than cannon distance, when- 
e^'cr the red-coat gentry please to step out of their intrench- 
ments." 

As the winter passed on the British began to feel the 
want of provisions. Meat of all kinds was ruinously high, 
while houses were torn down to furnish fuel for the soldiers. 
The parsonage of the old South Meeting-liouse, the old 
Ngrth Chapel, and i\\Q wooden steeple of the West Church, 
were one after another pulled to pieces for this purpose, 
while the glorious old " Libert}'- Tree" furnished fourteen 
cords of wood. Faneuil Hall was fitted up as a theatre, in 
which a farce called " Boston Blockaded," was pla3"ed, to 
the infinite amusement of the British and Tories. One of 
the chief characters in it was Washington, who cut a sorry 
figure on the stage. Shabbily clad, with a long, rusty sword 
by his side,, attended by an ungainly, ragged sers'ant, carry- 
ing an ancient gun, he walked the boards with a gait that 
drew down the house, while his speeches were received with 
immoderate laughter. This was all very well in a farce, 
]jut an incident occurred one niij;ht that showed liow close 
fear trod on the heels of laus-hter. 

A detachment had been sent to Charlestown to destroy 
some houses cither occupied, or used for fuel by British 
soldiers. In tliis they wci-e successful, making several 
prisoners. The skirmish that f)l lowed was taken by the 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 139 

outposts for a general movement of the army and an officer 
burst into the theatre exclaiming, " the rebels are attacking 
our works on Bunker Hill !" The audience, supposing this 
to be a part of the play, and intended as a surprise, roared 
with laughter, but when, suddenly, high over the merri- 
ment, Lord Howe, who was present, shouted, " Officers, to 
your alarm posts!" the farce was turned into a tragedy, and 
manager, characters, audience and all, rushed pell-mell 
from the building. 

The winter had been so mild, that but little ice had 
formed in the waters around Boston, but at length, in the 
middle of February, it froze hard enough to bear troops, 
and Washington proposed to take advantage of it at once, 
and, crossing from Roxbury to Dorchester Heights, fortify 
the latter, and at the same time carry Boston by assault. 
A council of war, however, decided that the latter attempt 
was too perilous. Mortified and disappointed at this lack 
of spirit and daring, Washington, nevertheless, resolved to 
take possession of Dorchester Heights, and plant his bat- 
teries above the town, and, if needs be, demolish it, crowded 
though it was with friends as well as foes. The noble 
Hancock had urged him to do this, and, if necessary, send 
the first shot against his own dwelling. 

The great difficulty, however, was to cast up intrench- 
ments in a single night, sufficiently strong to cover the 
troops from the British fire in the morning. The manner 
in which this was done I find thus clearly related in the 
diary of Rufus Putnam, the chief engineer of the army.* 

" 1776, January and February. During those months 
the mind of General Washington was deeply engaged in a 

* Jadge Putnam of Ohio, the descendant of Rufus Putnam, has kindly furnished 
me with the manuscript diary of his ancestor, together with other valuable papers. 
Though not a professed engineer, he had had a good deal of experience in the 
French war, and the post was almost forced upon him by Washington and the 
other generals. All the works at Dorchester, Roxbury, and Brookline, were laid 
out by him- 



140 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

plan of crossing on the ice, and attacking the British in 
Boston and taking possession of Dorchester Neck. 

" Now, with respect to taking possession of Dorchester 
Neck, there were circumstances which fell under my know- 
ledge and sphere of duty, which were so evidently marked 
by the hand of an overruling Providence, that I think pro- 
j)er to relate them. 

''As soon as the ice was thought sufficiently strong for 
the army to cross over, or perhaps rather before, a council 
of general officers was convened on the subject. What their 
particular opinions were I never knew, but the brigadiers 
were directed to consult the field-officers of their several 
regiments, and they again to feel the temper of the captains 
and subalterns. 

" While this was doing, I was invited to dine at head- 
quarters ; and while at dinner General Washington desired 
me to tarry after dinner, and when we were alone he en- 
tered into a free conversation on the subject of storming the 
town of Boston. 

" That it was mucli better to draw the enemy out to 
Dorchester, than to attack him in Boston, no one doubted ; 
for if we could maintain ourselves on that point or neck of 
land, our command of the town and harbor of Boston would 
be such as would probably compel tliem to leave the place. 

" But the cold weather, which had made a bridge of ice 
for our passage into Boston, had also frozen the earth to a 
great depth, especially in the open country, as was the hills 
on Dorchester Neck — so that it was impossible to make a 
lodgment there in the usual way. However, the general 
directed me to consider the subject, and if I could think ot 
any way in which it could be done, to make report to him 
immediately. 

<'And now mark those singular circumstances which I call 
providential. I left head-quarters with another gentleman, 
and in our way came ])y General Ileath^s. I had no thought 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 141 

of calling until I came against his door, and then I says let 
us call on General Heath ; to which he agreed. I had no 
other motive but to pay my respects to the general. While 
there, I cast my eye on a book which lay on the table, let- 
tered on the back, ' MuUer's Field Engineer.' I immedi- 
ately requested the general to lend it to me — he denied me. 
I repeated my request — he again refused, and told me he 
never lent his books. I then told him that he must recol- 
lect that he was one who at Roxbury in a measure com- 
pelled me to undertake a business which, at the time, I con- 
fessed I had never read a word about, and that he must let 
me have the book. After some more excuses on his part, 
and close pressing on my part, I obtained the loan of it. I 
arrived at my quarters about dark. It was the custom for 
the overseers of the workmen to report every evening what 
progress had been made during the day. Wlien I arrived 
there were some of them already there. I put my book in 
the chest, and if I had time did not think of looking in it 
that night. 

" The next morning, as soon as an opportunity offered, I 
took my book from the chest, and looking over the contents 
found the word ' chandeliers.' What is that ? thouo;ht I — 
it is something I never heard of before ; but no sooner did 
I turn to the page where it was described, with its use, but I 
was ready to report a plan for making a lodgment on Dor- 
chester Neck, (infidels may laugh if they please.) In a few 
minutes after I had for myself determined, Col. Gridley 
(the engineer who had conducted the work at Cambridge) 
with Col. Knox of the artillery, who had been directed to 
consult with me on the subject, arrived. They fell in with 
my plan — our report was approved of by the general, and 
preparations immediately set on foot to carry it into effect ; 
and, every thing being ready for the enterprise, the plan 
was put in execution, and a lodgment made on Dorchester 
Heights in the night of the fourth of March. Such were 



142 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the circimistances which led to the discovery of a plan 
whicli obliged tlie enemy to leave Boston, viz. a lodgment 
made of chandelier* fascines, etc." 

The better to conceal his purpose, and make it appear 
that an attack on the line was about to be made, Washing- 
ton, on Saturday night, the 2d of March, opened a tre- 
mendous cannonade, the heavy metal reaching even into 
the city, and shattering the houses. The British replied, 
and the two armies thundered on each other all night. The 
next (Sunday) night Washington again opened his heavy 
batteries. On Monday night, while the deafening explo- 
sions were filling the inhabitants of Boston with terror, he 
ordered General Thomas with two thousand men to march 
swiftly across the neck and occupy the heights. Bundles 
of hay had been laid along on the town side to prevent the 
rumbling of the three hundred carts that followed from 
reaching the enemy's outposts. This immense train of 
carts, driven rapidly over the neck, carried the pressed hay 
and fliscines, etc., for the chandeliers. It was a bright 
moonlight night as the soldiers wheeled up the heights, 
unseen by the sentinels below, and commenced their work. 
The bundles of hay were tumbled out and picketed to- 
gether in the frames constructed for them, and when the 
bright sun gleamed down on the frozen waters it revealed 
to the astonished enemy two dark structures standing on 
Dorchester Heights. Howe was amazed at the apparition, 
and after surveying the works long and anxiously through 
his glass, exclaimed, " I know not what I shall do." The 
play of " Boston Blockaded" was evidently drawing to a 
close. These heights commanded the bay, and also Nook's 

* " A chandelier is constructed of one sill ten feet long and six inches square, 
with two posts five feet long, of the same size, framed into the sill five feet apart, 
each supported ]>y a brace on the outside. They arc placed on the ground at a 
proper distance from each other — the open space between the posts is thou filled 
with buudles of Aiscincs, strongly picketed together." 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 143 

Hill, which overlooked Boston. Something must be done 
at once. Dorchester Heights had become a second Bunker 
Hill, and the rebels must be driven from there, or the city 
abandoned. Washington, not doubting that the enemy would 
storm his works, had, therefore, planned an assault on the 
city from the oj)posite side, when it took place. Two col- 
umns of two thousand men each, commanded by Greene 
and Sullivan, the whole under Putnam, were, at a given 
signal, to embark in boats near the mouth of Charles river, 
and pushing rapidly forward effect a landing under the fire 
of three floating batteries, and fall furiously on the enemy. 

Howe prepared at once to storm the American works, 
and commanded Earl Percy with three thousand men to 
attack them without delay. Washington anticipating this, 
galloped to the heights and gazed with kindling eye on the 
preparations for battle going on in the enemy's camp. He 
did not doubt for a moment of winning a glorious victory — 
the soldiers were in high spirits, and their courage was 
roused to a sterner pitch when he rode along their lines and 
bade them remember that it was the anniversary of the 
"Boston Massacre." The firm resolve to revenge that 
bloody act, mingled with the more exalted purpose to strike 
for liberty. 

The three thousand men, with Percy at their head, were 
marched to the shore with orders to rendezvous at Castle 
William, and when night came on mount to the assault. 
The hills around were covered with spectators, and thou- 
sands of hearts beat anxiously in view of the approaching 
conflict. But toward night a heavy wind arose, rendering 
it impossible for the boats to land, and while the troops 
stood waiting the orders to advance, the night came on dark 
and stormy. The rain fell in torrents, and they returned 
drenched and chilled to camp. All next day the storm 
continued to rage, and a council of war being called, it was 
resolved to abandon the assault and evacuate the town 



144 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Washington disappointed in not bringing on an engagement 
returned to camp, and Howe began to make preparations 
for his departure. The inhabitants were now filled with 
alarm lest the latter should destroy the town, and a com- 
mittee was appointed to wait on him to intercede for the 
place. Howe very gladly promised to spare Boston if 
Washington would spare him and the fleet, and though no 
agreement was entered into, it was understood on both sides 
that the evacuation was to be effected quietly and without 
molestation. Washington, however, was determined not to 
trust to jDromises, and commenced planting (March 9tli) his 
batteries on Dorchester Neck, so as to command more com- 
pletely the enemy's shipping. The British discerned the 
movement, and immediately turned their heavy guns upon 
the Americans. The latter replied from all their batteries, 
and all night long it thundered and flamed around Boston, 
sending terror to the inhabitants, who, thinking it to be the 
signal for a final battle, expected every moment to see the 
city in a blaze. But in the morning Howe ordered the bat- 
teries to cease playing, and went on with the preparations 
for embarking the troops. 

At length, on Sunday the 17th, the army numbering, all 
told, about 11,000 men, together with 1,000 loyalists who 
fled, leaving all their property behind them, were taken 
aboard the transports, whose sails were soon moving down 
the bay. The American army no sooner saw the enemy 
in motion, than it paraded at Cambridge, and led by Put- 
nam entered the deserted works of the British. Their loud 
hurrahs were heard by the retreating enemy, and all was 
exultation. The next day Washington accompanied by his 
staff rode into town, and was received with acclamations by 
the inhabitants. 

The English fleet did not at first withdraw entirely, but 
lay for some time in the Nantucket Road, causing )\'ash- 
iugton much anxiety respectmg its intentions. " AVhat 




\V A S JI I N- G T N D E S C K N D 1 X a THE OHIO. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 147 

they are doing there," said he, "the Lord only knows." 
Cramped and confined in the over-crowded ships, the Tories 
suffered severely. Some enlisted as seamen, and all paid 
dear for their desertion of the cause of freedom. Wash- 
ington was far from being pained to hear of their misera- 
ble condition, and in describing it said, " Two have done 
what a greater number ought to have done long ago, com- 
mitted suicide." These misguided men had supposed the 
British army invincible. *' When the order issued therefore 
for embarking the troops, no electric shock, no explosion of 
thunder, in a word, not the last trump could have struck 
them with greater consternation." 

The moment Washington got possession of Boston his 
amazing energies began to develop themselves. Believing 
that the next demonstration of the enemy Avould be against 
New York, he hurried troops off to defend it. Even before 
the fleet had left he dispatched thither a regiment and 
several companies of riflemen, and wrote to Governor 
Trumbull of Connecticut, to throw two thousand men with- 
out delay into the town, and also to the Committee of Safety 
of New Jersey to add an additional thousand, that in case 
of a sudden attack the city might hold out till he could 
arrive with the army. Oflicers, in the meantime, were sent 
forward to collect vessels at Norwich to receive the 
troops the moment they should arrive. He also dispatched 
artillerists and ammunition to General Thomas, who had 
been appointed commander-in-chief of the arm}^ in Canada, 
with a promise of larger reinforcements soon to follow. He 
knew that the evacuation of Boston would be the signal for 
active operations all along the coast, and he ordered all his 
necessary camp equipage to be got ready immediately, say- 
ing, "■ after I have once got into a tent I shall not soon quit 
it." No sooner had the enemy disappeared entirely than 
the whole army was set in motion for New York. Nearly 
thirty thousand troops had assembled around Boston, over 



148 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

twenty thousand of whom belonged to the army proper. 
Twenty-seven hundred of these were on the sick list — the 
remainder, with the exception of five regiments under Lin- 
:oln left for the defense of Boston, were soon streaming 
iouthward. Division followed division in rapid succession. 
The inhabitants gazed with alarm on the swiftly marching 
columns and lonr;; trains of artillery and bacfcao-e-wao-ons as 
they rolled heavily onward, foretelling strife and carnage to 
come. Washington with his guard outstripped the slow 
march of his army, and passing through Providence, Nor- 
wich, and New London, embarked on board a vessel and 
reached New York on the loth of April. He immediately 
insjDected the works erected by Lee, and also by Putnam, 
who had succeeded the former in command of the city, 
passed from fort to fort directing the different points to be 
occupied, and then calmly vie^ved his position. The twilight 
shadows of the gloomy night that was so soon to close 
around the American cause were already creeping over the 
land. The disasters that had befallen our troops in the 
north had extinguished the hopes of securing the coopera- 
tion of the Canadians, and at the same time encouraged the 
Indians to break from their neutrality, so that a dark and 
threatening cloud was rising along our unprotected frontiers. 
The troops were without blankets, and Congress without 
money, and worse than all without unity of feeling and 
purpose. 

Sending off more troops into Canada, Washington has- 
tened to Philadelphia, and though filled with anguish at the 
dissensions, timidity, and despondency that reigned in Con- 
gress, took courage when he found a large majority witli 
him in insisting on a vigorous prosecution of the war. A 
resolution was hurried tlirough .to raise thirteen thousand 
eight hundred militia,* and a flying camp of ten thousand 
more, from Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Delaware. 

• From New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Nuw Jersey 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 149 

In the meantime the Virginia Convention passed a bold 
resolution, recommending Congress to declare the colonies 
free and independent. " This is a noble vote," said Wash- 
ington when he heard of it ; " many members of Congress, 
in short the whole jDrovinces, are feeding themselves with 
the dainty food of reconciliation, but things have come to 
such a pass that we have nothing more to expect from the 
justice of Great Britain." The leaders of the people must 
not delude themselves and others with pleasing hopes and 
dreams, but look facts in the face, and prepare for the worst. 
In no other way can energy of action be secured. " One 
and all," said he, " must enter the contest with the full be- 
lief 'that he must conquer or submit to unconditional terms, 
such as confiscation, hanging, and the like,'' " et ceteras well to 
be considered, however disagreeable. 

The plan of the campaign on the part of the British had 
now begun to assume a definite form. Howe w^as to attack 
New York, ascend the Hudson, and meet an army, from 
Canada, thus cutting the provinces in two, while Clinton 
should occupy the southern seaports, driving the Americans 
back to the interior. It was also known that mercenary 
troops were on the way, and the name of Hessian became 
a spell-word with which to conjure up shapes of evil. 

Washington was absent fifteen days. On his return to 
New York, he pushed forward the preparations for receiving 
the enemy with all possible dispatch. Gondolas, boats, etc., 
were built to defend the Narrows, below which the Endish 
ships had been driven by the American batteries, and New 
York soon assumed a formidable appearance. The news, 
however, from the north and south grew more and more 
discouraging. Lee wrote from the south, over which he 
had been placed, that he was "like a dog in a dancing 
school," and did not know "where to turn himself or 
where to fix himself." The country was so intersected by 
navigable streams to which the British could fly at any mo- 



150 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

ment on their " canvas wings," that he was left to conjec- 
ture alone where the first onset would be made, while the 
Committee of Safety of Virginia, unlike its convention, was 
full of hesitation and doubt. " Page, Lee, Mercer, and 
Payne," said he, " are indeed exceptions, but from Pendle- 
ton, Blond, the Treasurer and Company libera nos Dominc.'^ 
From the north came tidings still more disheartening. The 
army was being driven in disgrace from Canada. The 
miserable remains of the armament that was to conquer it, 
lay without tents to cover them on the shores of Lake Cham- 
plain, one-half sick with small-pox, fever, and dysenter}^ 
over whose bodies myriads of loathsome vermin crawled 
unmolested ; the other half disorganized and desponding, 
and with scarcely sufficient energy to cast their dead com- 
rades into the two huge 2)its dug for their reception. Such 
was the news that ever and anon was brought to Washing- 
ton, keeping his mind on the stretch from morning till 
riiglit, and tasking his powers to their utmost limit. In the 
mean time forty sail [June 30] were reported in sight of 
the Hook. To add to all these embarassments and trials, 
treason and disaffection were in his very midst. Governor 
Tryon, who remained on board ship down the bay, plotted 
unceasingly to detach the inhabitants and soldiers from the 
cause of the colonies. By seductive promises, rewards, and 
deceptions, he corrupted both, and finally penetrated even 
into Washington's guard, and set on foot a conspiracy to 
seize Washington himself. He expected in a short time to 
have the pleasure of seeing the head rebel on the deck of 
his ship. The plot, however, was revealed, and one of the 
guard was arrested, tried by court-martial, and hung — a 
warning to all who meditated treason. 

While events were thus passing around New York, Con- 
oress, having asscml)led in Pliihidelphia, were engaged in the 
momentous question of a Declaration of Independence. Many 
of the separate provinces had already acted on the subject. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 151 

North Carolina took the first step, and passed a vote in- 
structing her delegate to concur with the other colonies in 
declaring independence. Massachusetts followed. Virginia 
next wheeled into the ranks, then Connecticut and New 
Hampshire. Maryland opposed it; while the delegates from 
the remaining provinces were instructed to unite with the 
majority, or left free to act as their judgments might dic- 
tate. Thus instructed, the representatives of the people 
assembled in solemn conclave, and long* and anxiously sur- 
veyed the perilous ground on which they were treading. 
To recede was now impossible — to go on seemed fraught 
with terrible consequences. The struggle had not been for 
independence, but for the security of rights, in which they 
had the sympathy and aid of some of the wisest statesmen 
of England. To declare themselves free would cut them 
off from all this sympathy, and provoke at once the entire 
power of England against them. The result of the long 
and fearful conflict that must follow was more than doubt- 
ful. For twenty days Congress was tossed on a sea of per- 
plexity. At length Richard Henry Lee, shaking off the 
fetters that galled his noble spirit, [June 7th] arose and in 
a clear, deliberate tone, every accent of which rung to the. 
farthest extremity of the silent hall, read, " Resolved, that 
these United Colonies are and ought to he free and independent 
States, and that all politicMl connection between us and the State 
of Great Britain is and ought to he totally dissolved.^' John 
Adams, in whose soul glowed the burning future, seconded 
it in a speech so full of impassioned fervor, thrilling elo- 
quence and prophetic power, that Congress was carried away 
as by a resistless wave before it. 

The die was cast, and every man was now compelled to 
meet the dreadful issue. Still weighed down with fear, 
Congress directed the secretary to omit in the journal the 
names of the bold mover and seconder of this resolution, 
lest they should be selected as the special objects of ven- 



152 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

geance by Great Britain. The resolution was made tlie spe- 
cial question for next day, but remained untouched for three 
days, and was finally deferred to the 1st of July, to allow 
a committee appointed for that purpose to draft a declaration 
of independence. When the day arrived, the declaration 
was taken up and debated article by article. The discussion 
continued for three days and was characterized by great 
excitement; at length the various sections having been gone 
through with, the^next day, July 4th, 177G, was appointed 
for final action. It was soon known throughout the city, 
and in the morning, before Congress assembled, the streets 
were filled with excited men, some gathered in groups en- 
gaged in eager discussion, and others moving toward the 
State House. All business was forgotten in the momentous 
crisis the country had now reached. No sooner had the 
members taken their seats, than the multitude gathered 
in a dense mass around the entrance. The old bell-man 
mounted to the belfry, to be ready to proclaim the joyful 
tidings of freedom so soon as the final vote had passed. A 
bright-eyed boy was stationed below to give the signal. 
Around that bell, brought from England, had been cast more 
than twenty years before the proiDlietic sentence, " Procl^vim 
Liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabit.\nts 
THEREOF." Although its loud clang had often sounded over 
the city, the proclamation engraved on its iron lip had never 
yet been spoken aloud. It was expected that the final vote 
would be taken without any delay, but hour after hour wore 
on and no report came from that mysterious hall, where the 
fate of a continent was being settled. The multitude grew 
impatient — the old bell-man leaned over the railing, strain- 
ing his eyes downward, till his heart misgave him and hope 
yielded to fear. But at length, at two o'clock, the door of 
Hie hall opened, and a voice exclaimed, " It has passed!'* 
The word leaped like lightning from lip to lip, followed by 
huzzas that shook the building. The boy-sentinel turned 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 153 

to the belfrj, clapped his hands, and shouted " Ring — ring!" 
The desponding bell-man, electrified into life by the joyful 
news, seized the iron tongue and hurled it backward and 
forward, with a clang that startled every heart in Philadel- 
phia like a bugle blast. " Clang — clang" it resounded on, 
ever higher and clearer and more joyous, blending in its 
deep and thrilling vibrations, and proclaiming in long and 
loud accents over all the land the glorious motto that encir- 
cled it. Glad messengers caught the tidings as it floated 
out on the air and sped off in every direction, to bear it on- 
ward. When the news reached New York, the bells were 
set ringing, and the excited multitude surging hither and 
thither at length gathered around the Bowling Green, and 
seizing the leaden equestrian statue of George III. which 
stood there, tore it into fragments.* When the declaration 
arrived in Boston, the people gathered to old Faneuil Hall 
to hear it read, and as the last sentence fell from the lips 
of the reader a loud shout went up, and soon from every 
fortified height and every battery the thunder of cannon 
reechoed the joy. 

Washington drew up his army and had the declaration 
read to each brigade in turn. The acclamations with which 
it was received showed how thoroughly the troops were 
penetrated with the principle of Liberty. In the mean time 
events were thickening around New York. The British 
fleet from Halifax had arrived, and while Philadelphia was 
yet shaking to the shouts of the multitude, on the wooded 
heights of Staten Island the last of the troops under General 
Howe were assembling, preparatory to a descent on the 
city below. On the 12th July, taking advantage of a 
strong south wind, two English ships of war stretched 
under a press of canvas up the North river. The mo- 
ment they came within range of the batteries on shore 
a rapid fire was opened on them. But the men, protected 

* This was afterward run into bullets and hurled against his majesty's troops. 

9 



154 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

by sand-bags, remained unharmed, while the vessels being 
under rapid headway soon passed out of danger, and taking 
position in Tappan sea, lay beyond the reach of shot from 
shore, thus proving what Washington said he " had long 
most religiously believed, that a vessel with a brisk wind 
and strong tide cannot, unless by chance shot, be stopped 
by a battery on shore." 

A^'a«hington, knowing that the only way the British could 
reach the city landward was by Long Island, along the 
shores of which they could at any time disembark their 
troops, stretched a cordon of works from "Wallabout Bay 
across Brooklyn Heights, down to Gowan's Cove, the chief 
fortifications being on the Heights. At each extremity, 
and where they touched the water, batteries were i)laced, 
to prevent ships going up the East river. General Howe 
in the mean time remained tranquil in his head quarters on 
Staten Island, waiting for reinforcements from England, 
before he ventured on an attack. Washington occupied the 
long interval that elapsed in thro^Ying up works at Kins- 
bridge, and erecting forts Washington and Lee, between 
which, across the river, were stretched chevaux de frise and 
hulks of vessels, sunk to prevent the British fleet fron^ 
ascending and outflanking him, and in establishing redoubts 
along the Hudson and the East rivers. 

The two ships that had gone up the Hudson with their 
tenders, kept cruising below the Highlands, taking sound- 
ings, and effectually dividing the northern and southern 
army. 

At length Lord Howe joined his brother, having been 
Kent as royal commissioner, with terms of reconciliation, or, 
as Washington said, " to dispense pardons to repenting sin- 
ners." These, however, were so utterly unsatisflictory that 
they could not be entertained for a moment. He also sent 
a letter to Washington with a flag, which the guard-boats 
•detained till the will of the American general could be 













H tl I STI. N 1 N <i 1 11 i; 1. IllKKTV TItKK. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 157 

ascertained. Colonel Reed was immediately s mt down to 
meet the flag, when the officer in charge of it handed him 
a letter directed to " George Washington, Esq." Reed 
assured him that there was no such man in the American 
army, and refused to take charge of it, and the flag was 
compelled to return. A few days after another letter with 
the same superscription was sent and met the same recep- 
tion. General Howe then dispatched his adjutant general 
to Washington's quarters, bearing a letter directed " To 
George Washington, Esq., etc., etc., etc." The ad- 
jutant addressed Washington as his " excellency," which 
certainly was a great concession to the head rebel of the 
colonies, and said that General Howe regretted exceedingly 
that the mode of address was offensive, as no insult had 
been intended, for both Lord and General Howe " held his 
person and character in the highest esteem." To meet all 
objections as to rank or title the et ceteras had been affixed, 
which, like the Italian Tante grazie, meant just as much as 
you chose to imagine. But Washington declared that he 
would not receive as a private person any letter " relating 
to his public station," and that a letter without some in- 
dication in its address of its public character must neces- 
sarily be considered private. After much expenditure of 
courtesy on both sides, the adjutant, stubbornly refusing 
to give any interpretation to the et ceteras, returned to 
General Howe, who at length, in view of the momentous 
results at stake, ventured to break through this punctilio, 
and address his letter to " General Washington." For this 
extraordinary stretch of his powers as royal commissioner, 
he, in his dispatches home, said he hoped his majesty 
would not be offended. The change of the mode of the 
address, however, did not effect a reconciliation with the 
mother country, though so great a sacrifice might seem to 
merit some reward. 

In the mean time various gallant attempts had been made 



158 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTO^\ 

to capture the two English ships in Tappan Bay, and though 
unsuccessful, one tender had been taken, towed ashore, and 
burned. Alarmed at these repeated attacks, they took ad- 
vantage of a strong tide and northerly wind to return, 
runnmg the gauntlet of the batteries and the riflemen on 
shore in gallant style, hurling their grape-shot as they swept 
on. They succeeded in joinhig the fleet in safety, though 
many an ugly rent gave indications of what might be ex- 
pected should a whole fleet attempt to pass. 

At length, by the middle of August, the British rein- 
forcements had all arrived, swelling the entire army to some 
twenty-five thousand men, supported by a powerful fleet. 
Against this formidable array Washington could not bring 
a single ship, and only eleven thousand one hundred men, 
a large part of whom Avere raw militia.* Added to all this 
tremendous preponderance of force, made still more eflec- 
tive by a covering fleet, the whole army was well supplied 
with every thing necessary to success, while the American 
troops being scattered along from Kinsbridge to Brooklyn, 
a space of fifteen miles, was miserably equipped, without 
discipline, and at this very juncture torn assunder by 
jealousies and bitter feuds, often breaking out into open 
animosity. Washington, expecting an attack daily, strove 
to allay this discord, and partially succeeded — still his posi- 
tion was extremely critical, and it was hoping against rea- 
son to dream of saving New York. 

But the news of Moultrie's gallant defense of the 
" slaughter-pen," as Lee in derision termed it, on Sullivan's 
Island, in Charleston harbor, reawakened confidence and 
kindled fond anticipations in the hearts of many that a 
similar fate awaited the enemy around New York. The 
salvation of the city, however, was only a secondary con- 
sideration — with its fixU the route to Albany would, in all 

• The army nominally consisted of 25,537— but 3,368 were sick, 97 absent on 
furlough, and 2,940 ou command. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. I59 

probability, be opened to the British, and the northern 
army, now retreating from Canada, would be crushed mid- 
way, and all the eastern provinces cut off from their north- 
ern brethren. This stroke would give the finishing blow 
to the union of the colonies, leaving each victim to fall 
alone. 



160 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER yi. 

The British land on Long Island— Sickness of Greene — The Battle — Defeat of Sul- 
livan and Stirling — Masterly Retreat to New York — Causes of Failure — New York 
abandoned — Retreat of Washington to Harlem Heights — Landing of the British 
at Kip's Bay — Poltroonery of the Americans and rage of Washington — His 
severe Order of the Day — Remarks on this Conduct of Washington — Narrow 
Escape of Putnam with his Division — Skirmish between two Detachments and 
Death of Knowlton — Manoeuvre of Howe and Battle of Chattcrton's Hill — Re- 
treat of Washington— Fall of Fort Washington. 

At length, August 22(1, it was announced that the British 
were landing on Long Island, between the Narrows and 
Sandy Hook. The plan originally was to bombard the city, 
but this had been abandoned, and an attack by land re- 
solved upon. General Greene, to whom the works on Long 
Island had been intrusted, and who was doubtless thoroughly 
acquainted with every locality, was at this critical moment 
prostrated by a bilious fever, and carried to New York. 
Putnam succeeded him in the command, but, from some 
cause or other, did not seem to think his duties extended 
beyond the lines. 

Between the plain on which the British landed and the 
mtrenchments of the Americans, stretched a thickly wood- 
ed hill, traversed by only three roads, on each of which 
redoubts had been thrown up to check the advance of the 
enemy. But one of these, the Bedford road, which led 
straight up to the American works, was left wholly un- 
guarded. Sullivan commanded without the lines in this 
direction, and it seems incomprehensible that any general 
r,ould commit such a strange oversight in presence of the 
enemy. Washington had given express orders to have all 
these passes well guarded, but the fact that Greene was ex- 
pected to be well enough to resume his command before the 
attack commenced, prevented the appointment of an officer 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. IGl 

in his place, in time to allow him to become acquainted 
with the ground, while Sullivan, Putnam, and Stirling 
seemed wholly ignorant of the exact duties required of 
them. Besides, the universal belief that this land de- 
monstration was only a feint to draw off the troops from 
the city, on which the grand attack, by water, would be 
made, may have caused the officers in charge to be less 
solicitous about the defenses on the island. 

The English, ten thousand strong, with an artillery train 
of forty pieces, took up their line of march on the warm 
August evening, (26th,) and slowly approached the wooded 
heights before them. Howe accompanied the right wing 
commanded by Clinton, Cornwallis, and Percy, and at two 
o'clock in the morning stood on the summit, and looked 
down over the plain stretching to Brooklyn. Grant, com- 
manding the left wing, moved along near the water's edge, 
toward Gowanus bay, while the old and veteran De Heister, 
fully restored from the effects of his three months' voyage 
by liberal potations of hock, led the centre, composed of 
Hessians, against the redoubts defended by Sullivan in per- 
son. The centre and left of the army were ordered only to 
skirmish with the enemy till they heard the guns of Clin- 
ton on the right, when they were to press to the assault at 
once, and prevent reinforcements from being concentrated 
at any single point. With the first sound of artillery, Put- 
nam sent off reinforcements to support both Sullivan and 
Stirling. The latter having been ordered to defend the 
coast road, took position at daybreak, in the hills which now 
form Greenwood Cemetery. 

In the meantime Clinton had descended from the hills to 
the Bedford Plains, and opened his fire on Sullivan's left. 
This was the signal for De Heister, who immediately or- 
dered Count Donop with his veteran Hessians to storm the 
redoubt in front, and carry it at the point of the bayonet, 
while he, with the main body, would advance to his support. 



1G2 LIFE OF WASniNGTOx\. 

The battle was in reality already won by Clinton, who now 
completely outllanked Sullivan. The latter met the on- 
set in front with his accustomed bravery, and as the 
Hessians poured, with their wild German war-cry, to the 
assault, mowed them down "with the steady volleys of his 
handful of resolute men. But the firing on his flank 
rapidly advancing nearer, threatened momentarily to cut 
him off from the lines at Brooklyn, and he reluctantly gave 
the orders to retreat. His small force however had scarcely 
reached the foot of the slope on which they had been posted, 
when they w^ere greeted by the blast of bugles, as the 
British dragoons came galloi^ing up the road in rear. 

His retreat was now cut off, and he threw himself into a 
piece of wood for protection. But the loud shouts and 
gloaming baj^onets of the Hessians as they swarmed through 
the green foliage, showed that this was no place of shelter, 
and the now surrounded Americans again emerged into the 
open field, only to be trampled down by the cavalry, and 
charged by the infantry, which had completely blocked up 
the way of escape. Driven again to the woods for shelter, 
they were bayoneted by the Hessians, who, refusing quar- 
ter, fought with the ferocity of tigers. Thus backward 
and forward they were hunted by the hostile ranks, until a 
portion, maddened into desperation, burst with one fierce 
effort through the barrier of steel that girdled them, and 
reached the main army in safety. The remainder, with 
Sullivan, were taken prisoners. 

All this time Stirling, ignorant how the battle was going, 
firmly maintained his position against Grant. But Clinton 
had no sooner disposed of the American left, than he dis- 
patched Cornwallis across the country to take the former in 
rear, and execute over again the manoeuvre that had de- 
stroved vSullivan. This British officer advanced till within 
a short distance of Stirling, when he fired two cannon shot, 
the signal before agreed upon for Grant to move to the as- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 163 

sault. The latter then gave the order to advance. Pressed 
in front and rear by an overwhehning force, Stirlmg saw at 
a glance his desperate position. The only chance of saving 
any part of his force was, with a small band of resolute 
men to keep Cornwallis employed, while the main body, 
fording Gowanus creek lower down, could gain the flank 
of the enemy and escape to Fort Putnam, on Brooklyn 
Heights. The tide was fast rising, and what was done 
must be done quickly. Calling around him a portion of 
Smallwood's glorious regiment of Marylanders, composed 
almost entirely of young men of rank and wealth, he 
hurled them with such terrible impetuosity on the British 
grenadiers, that the latter recoiled with amazement from 
the shock. Flushed however with the previous easy vic- 
tory, and disdaining to yield to a band of undisciplined 
rebels, they rallied to the attack, and the conflict became 
close and murderous. But these gallant young men, each 
one a hero, pressed so sternly and resolutely into the fire, 
that they bore down all opposition, and for the first time in 
open combat, rolled back the veterans of England. The 
steadfast Delawares stood, with their rent colors flying, and 
let the artillery of Grant plough through them, disdaining 
to stir till ordered to retire. The fighting here was des- 
perate. Young Callender, who had been cashiered for 
cowardice at the Battle of Bunker Hill, and afterward 
entered the service as a volunteer, seeing the captain and 
lieutenant of the company of artillery to Avhich he belonged 
fall, took command, and with the determination to wipe out 
with his life blood the disgrace that had fallen on him, dis- 
dained to surrender, fighting his pieces to the last. Even 
when the British infantry were charging over his guns he 
never flinched. A British oflicer, struck with admiration 
at his noble, gallant bearing, knocked up the bayonets al- 
ready pointed at his heart, and spared his life. Though 
outnumbered more than three to one, Stirling, with hi3 



lot 1,1 l- K O K W ASH I N (I TON. 

Iioixt-lnunl. stt'adily pii.slunl l>:u'k (\)nnv;illis. (ill llu» latlor 
Nvas luMvilv roinroivi'il. 'V\w o\\\ov to wlu'i'l oil' to the left 
ami t>si-ajK' ai'ioss t\\c luarsli was tlu'ii i;i\(Mi. A part siio- 
t'ooiKnl in I'soiipinj;, ami s\\iinuun«; a .small i-ivi'k ivarlu'il 
Fort I'littiam In saloty. Tlio ivmaiiulor, aiul aiuoii^- tluMu 
Loixl Stirliiii;". sunxMuliM^Ml tluMiisi'hivs pi-lsi)iuM"s ol' war. 

^^'ashilll:;ton, as tlu' soiiiul ol' i\\c lioavy cannoiiailinj; 
brv>ko o\i'r tlu* I'ity, hastiMJoil io i\\c slioro, ami K'apiiii; 
into a boat juaiuu'il l>y stroni; rowers, was soon on tlio 
Brooklyn siilo. (iallopini;- np tiie lloi_i;lits, lie cast a hnriioil 
^huu'o o\cr tlu» plains hoyond. As ho saw Snllivan com 
plotoly iMit oil', anil that Slirlinij;, though troni tlu> heavy 
oannoiKulini;- i>\i(K'ntly still maintaining his ground, nnist 
soon inovitahly shaix* the late of the lornier, a ery of an- 
guish hurst from his li[»s. The day was lost heyonil re- 
demption, and some oi' his noblest trt)ops gone forever. 
All this lime (Ireene lay tossing on his t't'siMish bed, a \nvy 
to the most painful anxiety. At length, as the news 
reaeheil him that Smallwood's — his favorite regiment — was 
eut io pieces, he groaned aloud, anil bursting into tears, ex- 
claimed — '' Gracious God, to he confhml ot such a time !'* 

Thus ended the lirst battle bi'tween the army under 
Washington and the eneniy. Nearly twelve hnndreil men, 
or a quarter of the entiiv force engaged, had been slain or 
cajituivd, a portion oi' them the elite of the army. Among 
the prisoners wimc (a'nerals Sullivan. Stilling, and ^^\)od- 
hull. It was extraoiilinarv that so many escaped. But the 
patches oi' wood ami thickly scattered hills furnished con- 
cealment to a great many di'tached parties, that in a more 
0|>en field or one better known to theeiUMuy would inevita- 
bly have been captured. The manivuvre oi' llowe was 
completely successful, and deserved even a better reward 
than it ivceived. 

The junction oi^ the various divisions oi' the Ihitish 
ainiv being efleeted soon after the ilefeat of the Americans. 



L J i^ K F W AHii i .'V (f 7 .S' . 1 C7 

tho "whoki H/lvaiif/ii} Uj within bIx \i\m<]i(A yardn of thft 
workn on I'tf/Mlyn Jfr;ightK. VaXcaUA )fy th^i <^)!y vio't/>ry, 
t}j'; troop?* (hinuiiidcA Uj Ui led U> the 'dHmalt at ofK;^;. Jf* it 
ha^l been \)hrm\iUA there I» Jittle (l/>ufit but tFiat the over- 
whelming nunjUjrH of the Jiritiiih would have prov^l t//) 
refti.HtJehH for even the strong work>; l/;hind v/hieh Putnara 
lay. iiut iJowe, ignorant of the for^;^; op[X/»'.-<J t/^ hirn, di/i 
not v/j>,h t/v /i'.k all he ha/1 finirKid by an un^;ertain, deHj;x> 
raUi (jn'nf'X, and rx>mrrten^xj^l planting hj« batt/irie«, evidently 
(Ift'rA'^jnn^^ i/j njlvixncAi by regiikr approa/;he?<. Wa^jhingt/jn, 
who Wi w'.xU^i<A with the Vj-MnHrX anxiety the r-apid ry>n- 
centration of the hont l/;fore hinj, with it« long line« of 
gkarning bayonet/* and heavy trains* of artillery, haw with 
inexprer;gible delight thi>; det^jrrnination of Jfowe. 7'iine 
would now be given t/j refi^:^;t up^>»n hin kiUvxiion and de- 
terrnin/i his cfjunie. If he should re»r^lve t^j fight it out 
where he waH, he r/^uld bring over rein forf>e men tH ; if f/^ 
Tf-Ath'^X, he might, by great exer-tionK and skillful manage- 
ment, ftave j/;rbapH the army. 

That night the Amerir;an« Bkpt but little. WaJthingt/^ri 
Lad difepatched c^jurier« to General Mifflin, at King^bridge, 
to hajiten down with a thouiiand rnen. The»fi, s^^x^n aft/;r 
daylight, were f^^en cror>:ing the river to Wallalx^ut, where 
they to'jk j/jr:t. The morning fiawned ^iark and glrx^my, 
and aH Boon as the American work« could be diijtinctly «een, 
the BritLBh ojxjne^i on them with their heavy gan», and 
fthortly after, the sharp rattle of muf-ketry was heard an the 
oatf/jHts came in c^^llii-ion. The heavens f/mtinn^A U> gather 
bk/;ker and more ftr^rnbre, and soon aftr^r mid-day the r^in 
came down in t/jrr^jnts. In a short time the fields were 
flo'^/led, and \)i(ir¥iui^\ a picturef-xjue ix]j]jf^^r4.wy(i, dfjiUy] with 
the whiUi tf;nts of the enemy, into which they crept i'tjr hh^'A" 
ter, but the disoourage^l, discomfitz/l patriots ha^l no t/ints or 
?^rra^;ki$, and stood drenched to the skin. The night brought 
impenetrable ^larkness, for a heavy fog slowly settle'! on 



168 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

sea and land, through which broke only the muffled tread 
or low call of the sentinel. 

Adjutant-General Reed, Mifflin and Colonel Grayson had 
been sent out during the afternoon to reconnoitre, and just 
before sunset, as they stood looking seaward, a sudden gust 
of wind, like a friendly hand, lifted for a moment the fog 
that lay over the British vessels within the Narrows, and 
revealed to them boats filled with men, passing from ship 
to ship, and all the preparations for some great and com- 
bined movement. The fleet had been directed to act in 
concert with the land-force, and attacking the batteries on 
shore, pass up the East river, and so separate the main 
American army in New York from that of Brooklyn. But 
the " stars fought against Sisera," for a strong east wind 
surged all day down the East river, holding back the ships 
with its unseen hand. 

The movement on board the vessels being reported to 
Washington, a council of war was called, and it was unani- 
mously resolved to retreat to New York. The fog that 
covered the island effectually concealed the movements of 
the Americans, and at eight o'clock the soldiers were pa- 
raded, and began their silent march toward the ferry at the 
foot of Fulton street. But the strong north-easter which had 
buffeted back the British fleet, was now, w^ith an ebb tide, 
sending such a furious current seaward that the boats could 
not be launched. At length, about elevan o'clock, the wind 
changed to the north-west and blew violently. The troops 
were then embarked in the fleet of boats prepared for their 
reception, and passed silently and swiftly from shore to 
shore. By five o'clock in the morning the whole nine 
thousand, with all their munitions of war, except the heavy 
artillery, were safe in New York. Washington stood the 
long and gusty night on the Brooklyn side, watching de- 
tachment after detachment disappearing in the gloom, and 
as the last boat left the land he also stejiped in, and with a 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 169 

world of care lifted from his heart, crossed over to the city. 
For nearly forty-eight hours he had not closed his eyes, and 
been a great part of the time in the saddle, superintending 
and directing every thing, and exhibited a skill, energy and 
power seldom witnessed in the oldest and most renowned 
commanders. 

The battle of Long Island has given rise to much dis- 
cussion, and various explanations have been offered and 
excuses rendered of the sad failure. No doubt there would 
have been more and severe fighting if Greene had been able 
to hold his command. No doubt Putnam should have looked 
out for flank movements, but he was good only for fighting, 
and knew nothing of strategy. No doubt Sullivan should 
have guarded the Jamaica road, or urged Putnam to do it, 
but he, too, had yet to learn the duties of a general by hard 
experience. The excuse that he did not command without 
the lines is not a valid one for his neglect. The simple 
truth is the battle should never have been fought, for no 
precautions could have changed the final result. The 
enemy were in too strong force for the American army 
on the Brooklyn side to resist under the most favorable cir- 
cumstances that could have been anticipated. But to abandon 
New York without a struggle seemed fraught with evil con- 
sequences, and it could not be defended by land better than 
where the stand was made. "Washington, like every other 
general officer, was compelled to leave many of the details 
on which a battle turns to the efficiency and energy of his 
subordinates, so that he is not responsible for the loose way 
in which the passes were defended. The great error probably 
lay in the settled conviction that the land attack would be 
only partial, and the main assault be on the city itself 
through the fleet. Of course there could be no comparison 
between the military knowledge and ability of the British 
and American officers. The former, many of them had had 
the advantage, not merely of early training, but of large 



170 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

experience in many a tedious campaign, on the continent of 
Europe, and it would be a miracle if even Washington at 
the outset, could not be outmanoeuvred by them, when the 
operations were on an extensive scale. But he was an apt 
scholar, and one lesson was sufficient for a lifetime, and in 
the unexpected vicissitudes of war, when tactics had to be 
made on the spot to meet the exigencies of the case, ho 
showed how intellect and genius, and an almost infallible 
judgment, could triumph over obstacles that put at fault the 
most veteran leaders. 

The effect of this defeat on the American army was most 
disastrous. Despondency and despair took the place of con- 
fidence and hope. The hastily collected yeomanry of the 
colonies had done good battle on Bunker Hill, and considered 
themselves in fact the victors, and when a regular ap- 
pointed army, with Washington at its head, should meet the 
enemy around New York, a glorious triumph was confidently 
predicted. But in this first battle the superiority of the 
enemy was made apparent, and just as high as the spirits 
of the troops had been raised previous to it so low they now 
sunk. A sudden paralysis seized them, and nothing but 
murmurings and complaints were heard. The burning de- 
sire to wipe out the disgrace — the courage rising with in- 
creasing danger — the stern cheerful rally to the side of 
their afflicted noble commander, were all wanting. On the 
contrary the militia grew insubordinate, and there, right in 
front of the enemy, while his strong columns were gather- 
ing closer and darker around the city, began to disband and 
march away to their homes. Nearly whole regiments at a 
time, half ones, and by companies, they filed away, heed- 
less of the remonstrances, appeals, and threats of their 
officers. In the very crisis of affiiirs the whole army 
threatened to be disorganized. Washington looked around 
him in dismay, and lost all confidence in his troops. He 
was not prepared for this wholesale desertion in the hour ot 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 171 

danger. Inexperience, want of discipline, jealousies, and 
rivalries, were evils he anticipated. He knew, also, that it 
would be impossible to keep an efficient army in the field 
on the short enlistments heretofore practiced, but to be left 
alone when the fate of the largest city in the colonies was 
de23ending, was a catastrophe against which no foresight 
could provide. He wrote to Congress that New York must 
be abandoned to the enemy, and a council of war was im- 
mediately called to decide on the course best to be pursued, 
which came to the same decision. A bombardment was 
hourly expected, and Washington issued an order for the in- 
habitants to leave, and soon the roads leading toward Har- 
Ifiem were crowded with fugitives, while hundreds more were 
seen hurrying across the river to the Jersey shore. 

In the council of war it was proposed by some to set the 
city on fire, and thus prevent the British from making it 
their winter-quarters. General Greene urged this measure, 
declaring that the Tories would be the chief sufferers, as 
two-thirds of the property in the town was owned hy them. 

In the meantime the plans of Lord Howe developed 
slowly. He had requested Congress to appoint a committee 
to meet him on Staten Island, and consult on some mode 
of arranging the difficulties between the colonies and mother 
country. They met, but the views of the two parties dif- 
fered so completely that all hojDCS of adjustment were 
iabandoned. Howe then began to push his advances on 
New York. The whole fleet moved up into the harbor, and 
soon after frigate after frigate stood up the East river, and 
on the 15th September, three men-of-war swept past the 
batteries along the Hudson, and lay-to off" Bloomingdale. 
It now became apparent that the enemy had no design of 
bombarding the city, and thus destroy the snug quarters 
they stood so much in need of, but were about to land above, 
toward Harlaem, and march down on it from the most 
unprotected quarter. Washington, penetrating their design, 



172 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

hnrried off his baggage and sick and nine thousand men to 
Kingsbridge and its vicinity, keeping only live thousand in 
the cit}^ to act as the exigencies of the case might demand. 
Detachments in the meantime were scattered along between 
New York and Harlosm, to protect the batteries and resist 
the attempts of the British to land. On the same day, at 
eleven o'clock, General Clinton began to land his troops at 
Kip's Bay, under the heavy fire of three war vessels. The 
day before he had taken possession of Montressor's Island, 
and Washington aware of his intentions, ordered the two 
brigades under Parsons and Fellows to hasten next morning 
to the threatened point, while he galloped away to Ilarlsem, 
where he spent the night. In the forenoon, while busily 
superintending the works on the Heights, he was startled 
by the heavy cannonading from the vessels of war, shaking 
the very ground on which he stood. Instantly vaulting to 
his saddle he rode swiftly along the road toward Kip's Bay. 
As he approached he saw to his utter astonishment the men 
who had been stationed at tlie batteries in full flight, leaving 
their pieces unmanned, although not seventy of the enemy 
had effected a landing. Before he could recover from the 
effect of this shameful spectacle, he beheld the two bri- 
gades which he had dispatched to the support of the batteries 
also in full retreat, despite the threats and commands of 
their officers. Such utter poltroonery, coming as it did on 
the top of all he had undergone from his faitliless troops, 
and placing in such imminent peril Putnam with his five 
thousand troops, proved too much for his self-command, and 
that strong soul for once burst the restraints with whicli he 
had bound it. Dashing into the midst of the fugitives he 
bade them in a voice of thunder halt. But they in their 
panic did not hear him, or if they did paid no attention to 
his commands, and dividhig around his horse streamed 
wildly on. Enraged beyond all control, he denounced them 
with a fciirful oath as cowards, and drawing his pistols snap- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 173 

ped them in their faces, and cut at the nearest with his 
sword. Finding all his efforts vain, and filled with 
ungovernable rage, he dashed his chapeau to the ground 
and wheeled all alone full on the advancing enemy, ap- 
parently determined in that terrible paroxysm of passion 
and of scorn not to survive the disgrace of his army. One of 
his aids, however, advancing seized the bridle of his horse 
and turned him back. The hurricane had passed, and Wash- 
ington was himself again. The stern indignation, however, 
at such conduct did not so soon subside, and five days after, 
in the order of the day, he said, " Any soldier or officer 
who upon the approach or attack of the enemy's forces by 
land or water, shall presume to turn his back and flee, shall be 
instantly shot down, and all good officers are hereby authorized 
and required to see this done, that the brave and gallant part of 
the army may not fall a sacrifice to the base and cowardly part, 
nor share their disgrace in a cowardly and unmanly retreat. ^^ 

This terrific outburst sheds a world of light on Wash- 
ington's character, and instead of depreciating it invests it 
with tenfold interest, and exhibits in a more striking man- 
ner the transcendent qualities he possessed. This and on^ 
or two similar incidents in his life are avoided by his biogra- 
phers, or merely touched upon, as though it were a pity to 
speak of them at all, and common charity required them to 
be concealed as much as possible. They even feel indigna- 
tion toward those who give them prominence, as though a 
personal attack were made on the " Father of his Coun- 
try." These men are wiser than their Maker, who does 
not hesitate to record the single rash act of Moses, who in 
his rage dashed the tables of the law to the earth, or the 
sinful conduct of David, the chosen of Heaven, or the 
quarrel of the Apostles. They forget that a human charac- 
ter is grand and exalted only as it overcomes evil, and the 
more difficult the victory the greater the glory. But for 
such, terrible outbursts as this we should never have known 

10 



174 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

what a volcano Washington carried in his bosom, and hence 
been ignorant of the marvelous strength of character, and 
the religious principle which kept down its fires. His eulo- 
gists seem to think that the more unexcitable and passion- 
less they make him, the more perfect he is, forgetting that 
moral character is not an endowment, but the result of effort 
and education, and that a man who is naturally impetuous 
deserves just as much credit for being hasty, as one who is 
naturally quiet and immobile for being placid and unrufllcd. 
It is the man who "ruleth his spirit that is greater than he 
that taketh a city," not one who has no spirit to rule. , It 
is the knowledge of Washington's inflammable, passionate 
nature, contrasted with his conduct under the severest trials 
long continued, under injustice, suspicion, neglect, desertion, 
abuse, discomfiture, and defeat, that makes us regard him 
witli unbounded admiration and astonishment. It is his 
amazing self-control that fills us ever with fresh wonder, 
and yet had he been born witli a phlegmatic, equable tem- 
per, his serenity would have been no proof of this. It is 
the arm which holds back the torrent that exhibits strength, 
not that which rests unmoved in the tranquil pool. 

The moment Washington saw the British had effected a 
landing, he dispatched an aid to General Putnam in the city 
with orders to fiill back with his division, as speedily as possi- 
ble to Harlfcm Heights. Putnam immediately put his brigade 
in motion, followed by a motley multitude of women and 
children, with loads of baggage and utensils, hurrj^ing on 
with 1 )ud cries after the retiring columns. It was a hot 
sultry day, and under the burning sun and clouds of dust 
kicked up by the advance regiments, the soldiers, many of 
them, sunk exhausted by the road-side, and fell into tlie 
hands of the enemy. Not a moment was to be lost. Clin- 
ton had already possession of the main road along the East 
river, so that Putnam was compelled to take the Blooming- 
dale road, across which the three frigates that had passed up 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 177 

the Hudson could throw their heavy metal . The disgrace- 
ful flight at Ki^D's Bay had allowed the British to gain so 
much time in landing, that to all human appearance they 
could stretch a cordon entirely across the island, before 
Putnam could reach Bloomingdale, and Washington looked 
upon him and his entire division as lost. Putnam thought 
so too, but determined not to despair so long as a ray of 
hope remained, and hurried on his flagging columns with 
all the energy he possessed. Riding from front to rear to 
encourage, to stimulate, and to threaten, he galloped back- 
ward and forward under the burning sun, his horse covered 
with foam and dust, and every lineament of his bold rough 
face revealing the intense anxiety under which he labored. 
A Quaker lady, named Murray, occupied at that time Mur- 
ray Hill, and he sent to her to delay by her hospitality as 
long as possible, Sir Henry Clinton. As the latter, with his 
staff, passed the house on his way to the Bloomingdale road, 
this patriotic lady accosted him and cordially invited him to 
stop and take a glass of wine. The cool refreshments which 
followed, were most acceptable to the British oflicers, and she 
detained them by her courtesies till her negro servant, who 
had been stationed on the top of the house to watch the 
American army, returned and made the sign agreed upon, to 
indicate it was beyond danger. A portion of the British 
troops had struck it at right angles, and a severe skirmish 
followed, in which fifteen Americans were killed, and two 
or three hundred taken prisoners, but the mayi body had 
barely slipped by, the enemy's line closing behind them as 
they passed. When Clinton emerged from Mrs. Murray's 
house, he saw, to his utter mortification, the American ban 
ners fluttering far in advance, pointing proudly toward the 
heights on which was drawn up the rebel forces. As dark- 
ness shut in the scene, the weary column wound up the 
slope, and was received with shouts by the whole army, 
while Washington did not attempt to conceal his delight at 



178 LIFE OF WASriINGTOiV. 

the energy and skill with which Putnam had brought off 
his troops*. In the meantime the wliole British army ad- 
vanced, and at night encamped near the American works — 
their lines stretching from river to river, and supported at 
each extremity by ships of war. Thus passed the night of 
the fifteenth of September. When the morning drum, roll- 
ing from river to river, awoke the two armies, Lord Howe 
turned his glass long and anxiously on the American works. 
Notwithstandmg the easy victories he had obtained, he hesi- 
tated to attack a position so well chosen, and defended as 
the one before him. Washington, irritated at the moral 
effect produced on both armies by the dastardly conduct of 
his troops, was anxious to remove it, if possible, and re- 
solved to attack any detachments that the enemy might 
send forward. During the day several parties appeared on 
the plain between the two armies, and a skirmish followed. 
This was no sooner reported to Washington, than he has- 
tened to the outposts to ascertain the number and purpose 
of the enemy. While he was examining them, Colonel 
Knowlton came in and reported their number about three 
hundred. Washington immediately ordered him with his 
rangers, aided by Major Leitch, with three companies of 
Virginians, to attempt to gain their rear and cut them off. 
At the same time he directed a false attack to be made in 
front, to distract their attention from the real point of dan- 
ger. The British detachment seeing the party approaching 
in front, retired to a cover of bushes and a fence. Knowl- 
ton, ignorant of this change of position, instead of gaining 
their rear as he expected, came suddenly on them in flank. 
Major Leitch immediately advanced gallantly to the attack, 
but fell pierced with three balls; Knowlton, hastening to his 
support, was also shot down. The troops, however, pressed 
fiercely on, and a reinforcement coming up, charged home 
so resolutely, that the enemy broke their cover and tied to 
the open plain. Washington fearing that the British would 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 179 

send out a large reinforcement,, ordered the bugles to sound 
a recall, and the gallant detachment retired to their posts 
with the loss of sixty killed and wounded. The British 
acknowledged ninety killed and wounded. The death of 
Colonel Knowlton, however, made the balance of loss heavy 
against the Americans. He was one of Putnam's best offi- 
cers. He had entered service when but sixteen years old, 
and been with Putnam in some of his hardest battles during 
the French war, and was among the first to rally to his old 
leader's side, after the skirmish at Lexington. He fought 
gallantly at Bunker Hill and Long Island, and was an officer 
of great promise. He fell at the age of thirty-six, on the 
threshold of that great struggle to which he would have 
given a clear head and a fearless heart. In his order the 
next day, Washington called him *' the gallant and brave 
Knowlton, who would have been an honor to any country." 

No one will ever know what he suffered during his retreat 
from New York up the Island. The embarrassments that 
overwhelmed him at every turn were enough in themselves 
to crush a commander, but when to all those was superadded 
utter want of confidence in his troops, there was nothing 
left on which to fall back. Disasters he could endure, but 
with soldiers he dared not trust in battle, no matter how in- 
ferior the enemy might be in force, that run away from even 
the sound of cannon, he was left utterly desolate. In a 
letter to his brother, speaking of the anguish that weighed 
him down at this time, he said he would not again undergo 
what he had suffered during those few days for a quarter of 
a million of dollars. The troops not only became cowards, 
but robbers, and under pretence of plundering the Tories, 
committed violence on the inhabitants indiscriminately. 
Thirty-nine lashes being the extent of the punishment 
allowed by the orders of Congress, the culprits treated it with 
contempt. 

Howe was anxious to bring on a general engagement 



180 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

without assaulting the Americans beliind their works. 
Washington, having no confidence in the mass of his troops, 
was equally determined not to gratify him, and the two 
armies lay idly looking upon each other for three weeks. 
Washington, however, improved the time in strengthening 
his position. At length Howe determined to make another 
effort to gain the American rear, and sending three vessels 
of war up the Hudson, which passed the batteries on shore 
and obstructions in the channel with but little damage, he 
embarked his troops in flat-bottomed boats, on the East 
river, and sailing through Hell Gate, landed on Throg's 
Neck. Remaining here five days, he reiimbarked, and 
landing at Pell's Point, marched to the high grounds near 
New Rochelle. 

The next morning Washington, who had been kept 
strangely ignorant of the roads and topography oT the coun- 
try to which the movements of the armies had been trans- 
ferred, sent out Colonel Reed, and Rufus Putnam engineer 
in chief, with a foot guard of tw<2nty men, to reconnoitre. 
Arriving on the heights of East Chester, they saw a small 
body of British, but could obtain no intelligence — the houses 
beinrr: all deserted. Colonel Reed here said he must return 
to attend to issuing general orders. Putnam replied that as 
yet they had made no discovery of consequence, and that 
if he went back he had better take the guard with him. As 
for himself, he was determined to proceed, and preferred to 
go alone. Putnam thus relates what followed, which I 
transcribe from his manuscript journal, as it throws new 
light on this portion of the campaign. 

" I then disguised my appearance as an officer as far as I 
could, and set out on the road to White Plains. However, I 
did not then know where Wliite Plains was, nor where the 
road I had taken would carry me. I had gone about a mile 
and a half when a road turned off to the right; I followed it 
perhaps hj If a mile and came to a house where, I learned from 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 181 

a woman that the road led to New Rochelle, that the British 
were there, and that thej had a guard at a house in sight. 
On this information I turned and pursued my route towards 
White Plains, (the houses on the way all deserted,) until I 
came within three or four miles of the place. Here I dis- 
covered a house a little ahead, with men about it. By my 
glass I found they were not British soldiers. However, I ap- 
proached them with caution. I called for some oats for my 
horse, sat down and heard them chat some little time, when I 
found they were friends to the cause of America, and then 
I began to make the necessary inquiries, and on the whole 
I found that the main body of the British lay at New Ro- 
chelle — from thence to White Plains about nine miles — 
good roads and in general level open country — that at White 
Plains was a large quantity of stores, with only about three 
hundred militia to guard them — that the British had a de- 
tachment at Mamaroneck, only six miles from White Plains, 
and White Plains only five miles from the North river, 
where lay five or six of the enemy's ships and sloops, ten- 
ders, &c. 

" Having made these discoveries, I set out on my re- 
turn — the road across the Bronx was my intended route, 
unless I found the British there, which haply they were not. 
But I found Americans on the heights west of the Bronx, 
who had arrived there after I passed up. I found it to 
be Lord Stirling's division. It was now after sunset. I 
gave my lord a short account of my discoveries, took some 
refreshments, and set off for head-quarters, by the way of 
Philips' at the mouth of Saw-Mill river, a road I had never 
traveled. Among tory inhabitants and in the night, I dare 
not inquire the way — but providence conducted me. I ar- 
rived at head-quarters, near Kingsbridge, (a distance of 
about ten miles,) about nine o'clock at night. I found the 
General alone, and reported to him the discoveries I had 
made, with a sketch of the country. He complained very 



182 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

feelingly of the gentlemen from New York, from whom he 
had never been able to obtain a plan of the country, and 
said that from their information he had ordered the stores 
to White Plains as a place of securitj*. The General then 
sent for General Greene and General George Clinton. As 
soon as General Clinton came in, my sketch and statement 
was shown to him, and he was asked if the situation of 
those places was as I had reported. General Clinton said 
they were. I had but a short time to refresh myself and 
horse, when I received a letter from the General with orders 
to proceed immediately to Lord Stirling's. I arrived at his 
quarters about two o'clock in the morning, Oct. 21st, 1776. 
Lord Stirling's division marched before daylight, and we 
arrived at White Plains about nine o'clock, A. M., and thus 
was the American army saved by an interposing providence from 
a probable total destruction. I may be asked wherein this par- 
ticular interposition of providence appears ; I answer, first, 
in the stupidity of the British General, in that he did not 
early in the morning of the 20tli send a detachment and 
take possession of the post and stores at White Plains, for 
had he done this, we must then have fought him on his own 
terms., and such disadvantageous terms on our part as hu- 
manly speaking, must have proved our overthrow. Again, 
when I parted with Colonel Reed on the 20tli, as before 
mentioned, I have always thought I was moved to so haz- 
ardous an undertaking hy foreign influence. On my route 
I was liable to meet with some British or Tory parties who 
probably Avould have made me a prisoner, (as I had no 
knowledge of any way of escape across the Bronx except 
the one I came out.) Hence I was induced to disguise my- 
self by taking out my cockade, looping my hat, and secret- 
ing my sword and pistols under my loose coat. Had I 
been taken under this disguise, the probabihty is I should 
have been hanged for a spy." 

In these few words the religious character of the leaders 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 183 

of the revolution appears in a striking light. The cause in 
which they are embarked is a holy one — it is under God's 
protection, and to his interference is ascribed every de- 
liverance from threatened destruction. Like Pharaoh of 
old the heart of the British General was made stupid, so 
that he should not destroy the chosen of the Lord ; while he, 
the chief engineer of the army, refers to the same divine 
source the promptings which made him under the circum- 
stances go forward alone, and ascertain the locality of the 
foe, and the topography of the country. 

As a matter of history it certainly possesses great interest. 
With the British army at White Plains, commanding the 
roads to New Rochelle and both rivers, and only five miles 
between him and the North river, it is clear as noonday 
that Washington could not have got into the interior. Shut 
up on the north and south, and shut up by ships of war in 
both rivers, not a resource would have been left him but to 
risk all in a pitched battle, and that too not in an open 
field, but on heights, which gave his enemy a three-fold 
advantage. The result of such a battle does not admit of a 
doubt — the American army would have been captured and 
the struggle ended. No wonder Putnam saw a providence 
in all this. 

Washington, now thoroughly alive to the dangers which 
threatened him, immediately crossed Kingsbridge, and occu- 
pying the heights on the west side of the river Bronx, ex- 
tended a line of intrenched camps to White Plains, thus 
rendering it impossible for the British commander to out- 
flank him. The intrenchments ran in parallel lines about 
four hundred yards apart, and terminated at a small lake. 

Howe, at length on the 29th, began to move across the 
country, evidently determined to make a general assault on 
the American lines, and carry their intrenchments by storm. 
From the heights he occupied, Washington could see them 
in eight massive columns, reddening the yellow wheat fields 



184 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

• 

with their scarlet uniforms, while groups of officers collected 
here and there betokened earnest consultation as to the best 
method of attack. Their progress was slow, for the fields 
were intersected with rough stone walls, which had to be 
pulled down to make way for the heavy artillery, that could 
with difficulty be got over the uneven ground. Besides, 
skirmishing parties took advantage of these walls and 
clumps of bushes to annoy the advance detachments of the 
British, and prevent them from clearing a path for the 
artillery. Slowly, however, and steadily the heavy columns 
swept on, while Washington, no longer placing any reliance 
on the militia, awaited with much misgiving and apprehen- 
sion the final shock. 

At this critical juncture, Howe, paused in his march to 
carry Chatterton's Hill, on which M'Dougall had been placed 
with fifteen hundred men, assisted by Alexander Hamilton. 
This hill was separated from the main army by the Bronx, 
which flowed in front of the American lines. The stream 
however was fordable here, so that the brigade could easily 
fall back on the main body. When the artillery got within 
range, Howe opened at once with twelve or fifteen pieces, 
whose echoes rolled like thunder along the heights, carry- 
ing consternation to the hearts of the militia. A ball having 
struck a soldier in the thigh, mangling him badly, the whole 
regiment turned and fled. Colonel Haslet could not induce 
his troops to drag forward the field pieces, so as to sweep 
the ascending columns. Only one was manned, and this so 
poorly that the colonel was compelled to seize the drag-ropes 
himself. As they were trundling it slowly to the front, one 
of the enemy's balls struck the carriage, scattering the 
. shot in every direction and setting fire to a wad of tow. 
In an instant the piece was abandoned in terror. Only 
one man had the courage to remain and tread out the fire 
and collect the shot. By dint of great exertion the colonel 
was able to fire a couple of shots, when the men ran away, 




SCENE AT STOCKBRIDGE ON RECEIVING NEWS OF THE BATTLE OP LEXINGTON. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 187 

dragging their single cannon after them. Hamilton, how- 
ever, with two guns in battery, coolly swept the slope, car- 
rying away whole jDlatoons that attempted to ascend. But 
the militia most of them soon disappeared, leaving M'Dou- 
gall with only six hundred to sustain the unequal conflict. 
This he did for an hour, and then slowly and in good order, 
carrying his artillery and baggage with' him, retreated 
across the Bronx and took post within the lines. The 
whole British force, thirteen thousand strong, now drew up 
within long cannon shot of the American works, and an 
immediate assault was expected. All night long the 
soldiers stood to their arms, awaiting the order to advance. 
At length the long wished for October morning dawned, 
when Howe with his glass examined critically the American 
intrenchments. They seemed so formidable and the posi- 
tion so admirably chosen, that he concluded to defer the 
attack till the arrival of Lord Percy, already on his way 
with reinforcements. Providence here interfered asain for 
the salvation of the American army. Those formidable 
breastworks, which reminded Lord Howe of Bunker Hill 
and Dorchester Heights, were the merest sham, being com- 
posed of nothing but corn stalks covered with sods and a 
little loose earth, which his artillery would have scattered 
like a bank of autumnal foliage. Had he advanced directly 
on them, instead of stopping to carry the really strong posi- 
tion of Chatterton's Hill, he would without doubt have de- 
feated the American army. Instead of this he had brought 
on only a partial battle, with the loss of some three or 
four hundred on either side. 

At length, on the evening of the 30th, Lord Percy arrived 
with four battalions, and Howe resolved to storm the Ameri- 
can works early in the morning. Washington, apprised of 
the arrival of this heavy reinforcement, determined at once 
to abandon his position and retire farther toward the High- 
lands. But a heavy storm of wind and rain set in that 



188 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

night and contiiiued all next day and evening, suspending 
the operations of both armies. Anticipating the necessity 
of a further retreat, Washington had cast up intrenchments 
upon the heights of North Castle, near the Croton river, and 
on the night of the 31st, while the English host was wrapt 
in slumber, and the fragmentary clouds were sweepuig 
darkly over the Highlands, through which the north-west 
wind rushed with the roar of the sea, cautiously led his 
untrained bands out of the encampment. Some one had 
set fire to the village of White Plains, and while the flames, 
fanned by the fierce blast, wrapped the dwellings and 
church, and shed a lurid light over the landscape, Washing- 
ton was rapidly defiling over the broken country, and by 
morning was snug in his new position, which looked down a 
hundred feet on the Bronx below. 

After a careful examination of the new position occupied 
by Washington, Howe concluded not to attack him, but 
return to New York and push his operations in another 
quarter. During Washington's retreat Fort Washington had 
been left far in the rear, and was now completely cut off 
from the main army. Colonel Magaw commanded here, 
and began to make the best preparations in his power for 
defense. Washington considering the fort no longer tena- 
ble urged the necessity of evacuating it at once. But in a 
full council of war it was decided best to defend the place, 
and although Washington as commander-in-chief had power 
to overrule this decision, he was unwilling to incur the 
responsibility of doing so, especially as future results, what- 
ever they might be, could in no way prove that he had 
acted discreetly. Had things been reversed, and he been 
in favor of holding the fort, and when the council opposed 
it, overruled their decision, then the fate of the fort M'ould 
have shown whether his judgment was correct or not. 
Greene, in whom he had great confidence, was placed in 
command of the troops in that quarter, and he unhesita- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 189 

tingly declared that the fort could and should be held. 
Washington therefore left the whole matter discretionary 
with him, though clearly expressing his opinion about it. 

In the meantime, while the British army were closing 
around this place, Washington saw that after its fall the 
next move would in all probability be against New Jersey, 
and, if successful, end in an attack on PhiladeljDhia. He 
therefore ordered five thousand men to assemble at Hack- 
ensack, to be under his immediate command, while he sepa- 
rated the other portion of the army into two divisions — 
one under Heath to occupy both sides of the river in the 
Highlands and defend its passes — the other, four thousand 
strong, under Lee, to keep the camp near White Plains, 
and to act as circumstances might demand. Washington 
having visited the posts in the Highlands, hastened to Hack- 
ensack, where his troops, after a circuitous march of sixty 
miles, had assembled. Filled with anxiety for the fate of 
the garrison in Fort Washington, he hurried back to Fort 
Lee, nearly opposite on the Jersey shore, to ascertain how 
matters stood. It was late at night when he arrived, but 
leaping into a boat he ordered the rowers to pull him across 
to the American works. When part way over he met a 
boat containing Putnam and Greene returning, who reported 
the garrison in high spirits and fully able to defend the fort. 
Washington, though still unconvinced, returned with them. 
The next morning the British under Knyphausen, Lord 
Percy, Colonels Rail and Stirling, advanced against the fort 
on three different sides at once, and though Haulings arid 
Cadwallader fought like lions, yet the overpowering numbers 
of the enemy broke down all resistance, and their ascending 
shouts, and the steadily advancing volleys, soon showed that 
the day was lost to the Americans. Washington, from Fort 
Lee, surrounded by his officers and with Tom Paine by his 
side, stood and watched through his glass the swiftly march- 
ing columns. To the eager inquiries of how the battle was 



190 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

going he only turned gloomily away, and requesting Greene 
and Putnam to accompany him, leaped into a boat and 
crossing over ascended the heights to Morris' house, where 
with painful apprehension he scanned more narrowly the 
movements of the enemy. While watching Cadwallader 
slowly retreating along the road nearest the Hudson, fight- 
ing desperately as he retired, he saw Col. Stirling advancing 
swiftly across where One Hundred and Fifty-Fifth street 
now is, to assail him in flank. Knowing that the troops would 
soon be all driven within the ramparts of the fort, and the 
whole surrounding country in possession of the British, he 
hastened to his boat and recrossed to Fort Lee. In fifteen 
minutes after he and Greene and Putnam had left Morris' 
house the British troops were pouring mto it. Arriving at 
Fort Lee he dispatched a messenger to Magaw, promising 
if he would hold out till night he would bring him and the 
garrison off. The promise came too late, the British troops 
were already inundatmg the outer works, and further re- 
sistance could end only in a massacre. To Howe's second 
summons to surrender, therefore, Magaw hauled down his 
flag. Washington from morning till noon had gazed with 
a palpitating heart on that height, and whenever the wind 
for a moment swept away the smoke that curtained it in, 
and revealed the flag of freedom still flying, hope would 
revive in spite of the dark aspect affairs were assuming. 
But at length as the firing ceased he with an exclamation 
of anguish saw that banner come down, and the British 
colors go up in its place. The incessant volleys and explo- 
sions of artillery had died away, and in their place loud 
hurras of the victorious enemy rung over the water. Al- 
tliough only about fifty had been killed, nearly three thou- 
sand were taken prisoners. This was the severest blow 
that had yet fiiUen on the American army, and crushed for 
a time the hopes of the country, Lee, when he heard of 
it, wrote to Washington — " Oh general ! why would you be 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 191 

overpersuaded bj men of inferior judgment to your own ? 
It was a cursed affair ?" It was a bad affair enough, and 
great blame rested on the shoulders of Putnam and Greene, 
especially on those of the latter. He commanded there, 
and was supposed to know all about the locality and its 
capabilities of defense. Greene was a young officer, and 
wholly inexperienced in the art of war. He exfoliated 
rapidly into an accomplished officer, and here learned a sad 
but important lesson — that by skillful manoeuvres a battle 
may really be gained before a shot is fired. The belief that 
Fort Washington, under the circumstances, could be held, 
was a delusion. Its fall rendered the longer occupation of 
Fort Lee impossible, and Washington ordered it to be im- 
mediately evacuated, and the troops that occupied it to join 
the army assembled at Hackensack. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER Vn. 

Retreat of Washington through the Jerseys — Disorganization of his Army — Finally 
takes post beyond the Delaware, near Trenton — Unaccountable apath}- of the 
Enemy — Washington takes advantage of it — Reorganization of the Army — Wash- 
ington resolves to march on Trenton — Passage of the river — The Attack — The 
Victory — March on Princeton — Astonishment of Cornwallis — Death of Colonel 
Rahl— The effect of the Victory upon the Country — Poverty of the Army — 
Robert Morris, the noble Financier. 

In the meantime, Howe pushing up with spirit the ad- 
vantage he had gained with six thousand men, crossed the 
Hudson six miles above Fort Lee, and moved rapidly down 
upon it. Cornwallis, who had command of this division, 
pressed forward with such vigor that Washington was com- 
pelled to leave behind all his heavy cannon, three hundred 
tents, baggage, provisions, and stores of all kind. The 
Jersey shore being entirely commanded by the British men- 
of-war, from which troops could be landed at any time, 
Washington with his desponding, almost disorganized army, 
drew off toward the Delaware. The militia, wholly dis- 
pirited, deserted in large numbers — even the regulars stole 
away, so that Washington soon had but little over three 
thousand men with whom to oppose twenty thousand. He 
had nothing that could be dignified with the name of 
cavalry, while the enemy was well supplied, and could over- 
run the whole flat (iountry through which his coui-se now 
lay. In the meantime the inhabitants, despairing of the 
success of the American cause, began to look toward the 
British for protection. An insurrection was breeding in 
Monmouth, to quell which Washington was compelled to 
detach a portion of his troops. The Tories took heart, 
and fell without fear on those who remained true to the 
cause of freedom. Encouraged by this state of feeling 
among the inhabitants, the two Howes issued a proclama- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 193 

tion, in which j^ardon was promised to all offenders who 
would within sixty days submit themselves to the royal 
authority. Multitudes obeyed, and with an army falling to 
pieces through its own demoralized state, in the midst of a 
disaffected population, pressed by an overwhelming victo- 
rious army, Washington saw a night closing around him, 
through the blackness of which not a single ray shot its 
cheering light. But it was in such circumstances as these 
that the true grandeur of his character appears. Superior 
to the contagion of example, he neither doubts nor falters. 
Kising loftier as others sink in despair, moving serener the 
greater the agitation becomes around him, he exhibits a 
reserve power equal to any emergency — a steadfastness of 
soul that nothing earthly can shake. 

He immediately ordered Lee, by forced marches, to join 
him ; sent to General Schuyler to forward him troops from 
the frontiers of Canada ; called on Pennsylvania to assem- 
ble her militia if she would save Philadelphia, and on the 
governor of New Jersey, to furnish him with troops, if he 
would not see the entire province swept by the enemy. 
But the country was paralyzed, and with his feeble band he 
continued to retire before the enemy. Lee, intent on deliver- 
ing some bold stroke of his own, and thus eclipse Washing- 
ton, whom the provinces began to susj^cct of inefficiency, 
refused to obey the orders of his commander, and finally, a 
victim to his own folly, fell into the hands of the enemy, 
thus adding another to the list of calamities, for the coun- 
try had placed great reliance in his skill and experience as 
a general. 

Driven from the Hackensack, Washington took post 
behind the Aqukannunk. Pressed hotly by Cornwallis, he 
was compelled to abandon this position also, and retiring 
along the Raritan halted at New Brunswick. Here the 
Maryland and New Jersey troops declared the time of their 
enlistment had expired, and shouldering their muskets, left 

11 



194 LIFE OF WASIIIXGTOX. 

the camp in a body. Their departure sliook the rest' of 
the army, and it required all of Washington's efforts to pre- 
vent it from disbanding whollj^ Unable to offer any 
resistance, he retreated to Trenton. Here, receivinir a re- 
inforcement of two thousand men from Philadelphia, he 
began to assume the offensive ; but finding Cornwallis ad- 
vancing in several columns, so as to cut off his retreat, he 
crossed, on the 8th of December, 1776, to the right bank 
of the Delaware, destroying all the bridges and boats after 
him. Here he sat down knowing it was the last stand that 
could be made between the enemy and Philadelphia. 

The English general taking up his head-quarters at Tren- 
ton extended his army up and down the river, but made no 
serious demonstrations to cross. He neither collected boats, 
nor materials for bridges, nor attempted to pass by means 
of rafts. A sudden and unaccomitable apathy seemed to 
have seized him, and the energy with which, since the 
taking of Fort Washington, he had pressed the American 
army, and which threatened to crush the rebellion at once, 
deserted him. Nothing was easier than to ford the river 
and seize Philadelj^hia, and compel Washington to carry out 
his sublime purpose, " retreat, if necessary, heijond the Alle- 
ghanies.^' 

The delay of the British here enabled Washington to 
strengthen his army. He sent Mifflin and Armstrong 
through Pennsylvania, rousing t\io patriotic citizens to arms. 
Sullivan joined him with Lee's division, and Gates arrived 
with four regiments from Ticonderoga. Still the prospect 
was inexpressibly gloomy. Rhode Island, Long Island, 
New York, nearly all the Jerseys, had one after another 
fallen into the hands of the enemy, and nothing seemed 
able to resist his victorious march. 

The reinforcements, however, that had come in encouraged 
Washington in the hope that he might yet strike a blow 
which, if it did not seriously embarrass his adversaries, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 195 

would nevertheless rekindle hope throughout the country. 
Although the force under him was inadequate to any great 
moveni,pnt, something must be done before the winter shut 
in, or spring would find Congress without an army, and the 
American cause without defenders. The British were waiting 
only for cold weather to bridge the Delaware with ice, when 
they would cross ; and, crushing all opposition by their 
superior force, march down on Philadelphia. Though the 
heavens grew dark around Washington, and fear and de- 
spondency weighed down the firmest hearts, his sublime 
faith in God and the right never shook, and even in this 
hour of trial and of gloom he lifted his voice of encourage- 
ment, declaring he saw the morning beyond it all. He sent 
Putnam to Philadelphia to erect defenses, behind which the 
army might, if driven back from the Delaware, make a 
desperate stand for the city. 

In the meantime the reorganization of the army on the 
plan adopted by a Committee of Congress and Washington 
at Harlcem Heights, was carried forward.* Congress, how- 
ever, at this time retired in affright to Baltimore, and the 
Tories of Philadelphia, embracing nearly all the Quakers, 
taking courage, rendered Putnam's situation precarious. 

While trouble and uncertainty pervaded both Congress 
and the army, Lord Howe, having resigned the command to 
Cornwallis, retired to New York, where he remained tran- 
quil, in the full belief that an easy victory awaited him. The 
latter officer having lost all fear of the American troops, 
stretched his army in a chain of cantonments, from Trenton 
to Burlington, and also retired to the snugger quarters of 
New York. Colonel Rahl, with fifteen hundred men, was 

* Bj this plan all the continental troops were to constitute one grand army of 
eighty battalions, in all sixty thousand men. To induce enlistments during the 
war a bounty of twenty dollars was offered, together with a section of land, to be 
given at the close to the survivors, or to the family of him who had fallen. The 
amount was in proportion to the grade, advancing from one hundred acres, the sharo 
of a common soldier, to five hundred, that of a colonel. 



196 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

stationed at Trenton ; Count DonojD occui)ied Bordcntown 
>vith a brigade of Hessians, -while still lower down, and 
within twenty miles of Philadelphia, lay another corjDS. 
Other portions were quartered at Amboy, Brunswick, and 
Princeton. This was the position of aflliirs as the cold 
blasts and heavy frosts of the latter part of December began 
to gather the ice on the Delaware, promising soon to con- 
struct a solid bridge, over which the victorious enemy could 
march without resistance. The x\merican army, thinly 
clad, poorl}^ fed, and worse housed, presented a soriy specta- 
cle as it paraded on the frozen ground, amid the drifting 
snow-storm. The bands of music, failed to stir into enthu- 
siiism the blood of those who could see no morning beyond 
the night that enveloped them. The Tories were in high 
spirits, and the jxitriots correspondingly downcast and de- 
pi-essed. 

Washington, firmly resolved to smite his over-confident 
adversary, if fortune would give but the faintest promise of 
success, carefully scrutinized every position, and pondered 
well every plan suggested to his mind. The fiery Stark 
remarked to him one day, " You have depended a long time 
on spades and 2:>ickaxes, but if you ever wish to establish 
the independence of the country, you must rely on fire- 
arms." " That," replied Washington, "is what I am going to 
do. To-morrow we march on Trenton, and I have appointed 
you to command the advance-guard of the left wing." lie 
had resolved to cross the Delaware at night, and surprise 
the Hessians at Trenton. Christmas Eve was fixed upon 
for tljc expedition, because he knew this to be a time of 
carnival among the German troops, and hoped to fall upon 
them overcome with wine and sleep. The Pennsylvania 
militia, under Cadwallader and Ewing, the former stationed 
at Bristol, opposite the corps at Bordcntown, and the latter 
just below Trenton, were ordered to croski at the same time, 
and l>y a simultaneous attack, coLfuse and distract the 




KNOX ENTERING CAMP WITH ARTILLERY. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. l'J9 

enemy. Washington, with two thousand four hundred men, 
marched to McKonkey's Ferry, nine miles above Trenton, 
and at dusk began to cross. It was an hour big with results 
to the cause of his country, and he felt the heavy respon- 
sibility he had assumed. He was calm but solemn, and as 
he stood dismounted beside his horse and gazed on the tur- 
bulent river, adown whose bosom the ice, which the sudden 
cold had formed, was angrily drifting, and listened to its 
crushing, grinding sound against the frozen shores, blending 
in its monotonous roar with the confused tramp of the 
marching columns, and heavy roll of the artillery wagons, 
and hoarse orders of the officers, his aspect and air were 
those of one who felt that the crisis of his fate had come. 
He was about to put a large and almost impassable river 
across the only way of retreat, and the morning dawn 
would see his little army victorious, or annihilated, and his 
country lifted from the gloom that oppressed it, or plunged 
still deeper into the abyss of despair. As he thus stood 
absorbed in thought and pressed with anxious care, Wilkin- 
son approached him with a letter from Gates. Roused from 
his contemplation, he fixed a stern look on the officer, and 
exclaimed, " What a time is this to hand me letters!'^ 

The night closed in dark and cold — the wind swept in 
gusts down the river, while the rapidlj^ increasing ice 
threatened to prevent entirely the crossing of the troops in 
time for a night attack. A few boats reached the opposite 
shore, when a blinding snow storm set in, casting such utter 
darkness on the river, that those which followed became 
lost, and drifted about in the gloom. General Knox, who 
had a voice like a trumpet, stood on the farther shore, and 
kept hallooing to those struggling in the middle of the 
stream, and thus indicated the point toward which they 
should steer. It was a long and inconceivably distressing 
night to Washington. He had calculated on a surprise, but 
as hour after hour wore away, and the boats entangled in 



200 LIFE OF WASHING T OX. 

the ice delayed their arrival, he saw that this on "which he 
had placed his chief reliance, must be abandoned. His po- 
sition grew more and more critical every moment, Cadwal- 
lader and Ewing might have crossed, and relying on his 
cooperation attacked the enemy alone and been defeated, 
or unable to cross at all, left him unsupported to meet in 
open daylight a prepared enemy, whose heavy artillery 
could cfTectually sweep every street up which his untrained 
troojDS might attempt to advance. For nearly twelve hours 
he watched on the banks of the Delaware, listening to the 
shouts and uproar of his scattered army, floundering in the 
gloom, and though an eternity seemed to intervene between 
the arrival of the boats, he showed no irritation, but stood 
like a column of marble amid the storm, his great heart 
almost bursting with anxiety, and yet not an indication of 
it in his voice and bearing. He could have pushed on with 
less men, but dared not advance without the artillery, which 
was the hist to get over. This at length arrived, and at 
four o'clock in the morning the army took up its line of 
march. He was still nine miles from Trenton, and the 
whole distance to be made against a storm of sleet beating 
full in the soldiers' faces. The army was divided into two 
columns — one under Sullivan, taking the road along the bank, 
while Washington, in person, accompanied by Greene, led 
the other by the Pennington road nearly parallel and a little 
farther inland. As day broke dimly over the dreary land- 
sca^x?, Washington saw that his troops were suffering severely 
from the fatiguing work of the night, and ordered a halt 
that they might take a few moments' rest. No one, hoAv- 
ever, was permitted to leave the ranks. The order had 
scarcely passed down the line before every man was leaning 
heavily on his musket, and the whole column standing as 
if suddenly frozen in its j^lace, while the storm silently 
sifted its white covering over all. Many were but half-clad, 
and without shoes or stocldngs stood shivering on the 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 201 

frozen ground. Only a short respite, however, could be 
given, and soon the order, " forward," passed down the 
ranks. As the column put itself in motion, Washington, to 
his surprise, saw one portion quietly slip away from the 
other, leaving it standing motionless and fast asleep in its 
place. It was .with difficulty the poor fellows could be 
roused, but when, not long after, the guns of the advance- 
guard broke on their ears, there was no lack of wakefulness 
and energy. 

Under the driving sleet many of the muskets of Sulli- 
van's troops became wet and unfit for use. On making the 
discovery, he dispatched his aid, Colonel Smith, to AYash- 
ington, stating the fact, and saying that he could depend on 
nothing but the bayonet. Turning suddenly on the as- 
tonished officer, Washington thundered in his ears : " Go 
hack sir, immediately, and tell General Sullivan to move on." 
In relating the occurrence afterward. Colonel Smith said 
that he " never saw a face so awfully sublime'^ as Washington's 
when he gave that stern command. All the lion in his 
nature was roused, every strong faculty had been summoned 
from its respose, and the marble calmness of his demeanor 
was like that strange hush of nature which betokens the 
approaching storm. Captain Forest moved in advance with 
the artillery, and Washington rode beside him. Passing a 
countryman chopping wood before his door, the latter 
pointed to Trenton, now dimly looming in the distance, and 
asked him if he knew where the Hessian picket lay. The 
man replied he did not. Said Forest, " You may tell, for 
it is Washington who addresses you." Overcome with 
sudden joy, the poor man lifted up his hands and exclaimed, 
" God bless and prosper you." He then pointed to a house 
in which the picket lay, and to a tree near it, where the 
sentry stood. The guns were then unlimbered, and the 
whole column pressed rapidly forward. Washington still 
rode in advance amid the artillery, and some of his officers 



202 ' LIFE OF AVASHINGTON. 

becoiuiiig alarmed for his safety, urged him to retire. But 
he paid no heed to their remonstrances — it was not a time 
to think of himself, and he still led the column, and was just 
entering King street, when he heard the thunder of Sulli- 
van's guns in another direction, as Stark broke into the 
town, and with his strong battle-crj roused the Hessians 
from their drunken slumbers. Forest then opened with his 
artillery, and Washington, watching anxiously the effect 
of each shot, pointed out the different objects at which he 
wished him to direct his aim. All now was confusion and 
terror in the enemy's quarters. The roll of drums, the 
shrill blast of bugles and discordant cries of " to arms, to 
arms," rang out on every side. Detached companies of 
dragoons careering through the street — officers galloping 
almost alone, and wildly about — men hurrying to and fro in 
the uncertain light — irregular volleys of musketry mingling 
with the heavier explosions of cannon, combined to create 
a scene of confusion and disorder in the Hessian camp, that 
no effort could allay. A few soldiers succeeded in wheeling 
two cannon into the street along which Washington was 
advancing. Young Monroe, afterward President of the 
United States, and Captain Washmgton sprang forward with 
their men, and though the matches were about to descend 
on the pieces, charged up to the very muzzles. A volley 
of musketry met them, and when the smoke cleared away, 
those two gallant officers were seen reclining in the arms 
of their followers, wounded, though not mortally. A shout, 
however, told that the guns were captured. Washington 
then ordered the column to advance rapidly, when one of 
his officers exclaimed — " Their flags are struck !" Looking 
up in surprise, he replied, " So they are,^^ and spurring into 
a gallop, dashed forward. He was victorious — the burden 
was suddenly rolled from his heart, and turning to one of 
his officers, he grasped his hand, exclaiming — " This is a 
glorious day for our country.''^ His " country" was his only 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 203 

thought. The suddenness of the victory surprised every 
one. But the Hessians finding themselves hemmed in by 
the Assanpink, Sullivan, and Washington, and their leader 
sone, saw that resistance would be in vain. Aljout six 
hundred light-horse and infantry made their escape to Bor- 
dentown. Ewing had not been able to effect a jmssage, ov 
his division would have crossed the track of these fugitives, 
and captured them. Cadwallader had also found it impossi- 
ble to get his army over, so that the troops in Bordentown, 
Burlington Block House, and Mount Holly, escaped. The 
victory, though incomplete through the inability of those 
two commanders to cooperate with Washington, as antici- 
pated, was nevertheless great. A thousand prisoners, six 
brass field-pieces, a thousand stand of arms, and four colors, 
were the glorious results, while the Americans lost only four 
privates, two of whom were frozen to death. Among those 
of the enemy killed was Colonel Bahl, the commander. 
He had been spending the evening, by invitation, at the 
house of a Tory, and while Washington stood on the bleak 
shores of the Delaware, watching his army struggling in 
the icy stream, was pleasantly engaged in a game of cards, 
to which he gave greater zest, by frequent and heavy pota- 
tions, to the merry Christmas. A Tory had discovered the 
approach of the American army toward morning, and hur- 
ried off to find Colonel Rahl. Being directed to the house 
where he was, he knocked at the door and gave a letter to 
a negro waiter, with the request that it should be handed to 
his master immediately. The servant at first refused to 
disturb him, but on being told it was of great importance, 
delivered it. It being Rahl's turn to deal, he thrust the 
note into his pocket and continued the game. Half-an-hour 
had scarcely elapsed when a heavy explosion of cannon 
shook the house where he sat. He started bewildered to 
his feet, when another and another followed in quick suc- 
cession. He called for his horse, but before he could be 



204 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

saddled and bridled the pealing bugle and rapid roll of drums 
told him that the enemy was already in his camp. Dashing 
forward, he rallied a few troops in an orchard, and was lead- 
ing them up thfi street against the advancing column, when 
he fell mortally wounded. 

Before leaving Trenton, Washington snatched a moment 
to visit the dying officer, and expressed the deepest sympa- 
thy for his misfortune. 

The enemy being in great force in the vicinity, Washing- 
ton resolved to recross the Delaware to his old encampment, 
and at evening the weary but elated soldiers were in the 
boats, pulling to the same shore they had left the night be- 
fore with such sad misgivings. At midnight they entered 
their old quarters again, so utterly exhausted by their thirty- 
two hours toil, they could hardly stand. But for once they 
were forgetful of their cold bivouac and scanty clothing, and 
slept the slumbers of the brave. 

The effect of this victory on the country was like sudden 
life to the dead. It was a bright Aurora fringing with light 
and glory the hitherto dark and wintry heavens. The en- 
thusiasm and joy were the greater, springing as they did out 
of sorrow and despair, and wherever over the land the name 
of Washington was uttered, tears fell like rain drops, and 
blessings innumerable were invoked on his head. 

Washington scarcely heard the long shout that went rolling 
over the land as the news of the victory of Trenton spread 
on every side, and paid but slight attention to the numerous 
congratulations that came pouring in from Congress and the 
distinguished men of the colonies, so intent was he on 
taking advantage of the enthusiasm of his troops, and the 
panic of the enemy, and follow up the unexpected blow he 
had given with another still more terrible and disastrous. 
It was now mid-winter, and his troops were without tents 
and clothing, yet he hoped, by great energy and daring, to 
press so hard on the cantonments of the British that they 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 205 

would be compelled to break them up and evacuate the 
Jerseys. But this little band presented a sorry spectacle 
as it lay, half clad, scattered around on the frozen ground, 
while to add to his calamities he knew that the term of service 
of several of the regiments was drawing to a close. Ong 
cheering feature, however, presented itself. Congress hav 
ing got over its fears of a military despotism, or oppressed 
with the still greater fear of ultimate failure, conferred 
at this time [Dec. 27th] on Washington powers making him 
practically military dictator. He was authorized to raise 
sixteen battalions of infantry, three thousand light-horse, 
three regiments of artillery, together with a corps of engi- 
neers, and appoint the officers himself. He had also full 
power when he deemed it necessary to call on the several 
States for the militia — to appoint throughout the army all 
the officers under brigadiers — fill up all vacancies — to take 
whatever he wanted for the use of his troops, wherever he 
could find it, with no other restriction than that he must 
pay its value — finally, seize and lock up every man ^vho 
refused to receive continental money. This was a tre- 
mendous stride from the doubtful and suspicious course 
Congress had hitherto adopted. Such power was never be- 
fore placed in the hands of a single man without being 
abused. But Washington was as destitute of mere ambition 
and self-love as he was of vain glory ; one object alone 
filled the whole field of his vision — his country ; and one 
thought only engrossed all his heart — her good. The coun- 
cil of safety of New York wrote him an apology for having, 
unintentionally, as they afterward found, encroached on his 
authority, while endeavoring to aid him. His letter shows 
how irksome the power he wielded was to him. " Heaven 
knows," said he, " that I greatly want the aid of every good 
man, and that there are not such enviable pleasures attend- 
ing my situation as to make me too jealous of its preroga- 
tives." The very day after the battle of Trenton, while 



206 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

he stood musing on the banks of the Delaware, amid his 
excited but suffering soldiers, the vote investing him with 
these extraordinary powers passed Congress. The following 
day he recrossed the river and marched to Princeton. But 
at this critical juncture the term of service of several of 
the regiments expired, and the troops, worn down with 
fatigue and exposure, were determined to go home. Wash- 
ington, in this emergency, promised them ten dolhxrs bounty 
if they would remain six weeks longer, though he did not 
then know where the money was to come from. He also 
made a strong appeal to officers and men. He praised their 
fidelity and gallantry, acknowledged they were entitled to 
an honorable discharge, but begged them to think of the 
sad condition of their country should they take it at the 
present juncture. He bade them remember they were 
standing on the very spot they had rendered immortal, and 
where tlicy had covered themselves with glory. He spoke 
of the gratitude of their country and the mortification of 
the enemy, and then told them all they had achieved would 
be vain if they disbanded and left him without an army. 
The enemy would immediately re-occupy his joosts and 
march without obstruction to Philadelphia. The officers 
were moved by this noble appeal, and in turn jDleaded with 
the men, and by this means more than half were persuaded 
to remain. Washington, with an empty military chest, then 
wrote to that noble patriot, Robert Morris, who was to his 
country in its fmancial troubles what the former was to her 
in the field, for immediate help. Morris borrowed on his 
own personal credit fifty thousand dollars, and dispatched 
the amount without delay to head-quarters, and in the note 
announcing its departure, bade Washington call on him 
again when in trouble and he should have more. 

In the meantime Cadwallader and Mifflin had succeeded in 
crossing the Delaware, each with some eighteen hundred 
men, and formed a junction with Washington at Trenton. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 207 

While the latter was thus concentrating his troops at 
Trenton, Howe, on whom this sudden and bold irruption 
had fallen like a thunder-clap, immediately ordered off re- 
inforcements to New Jersey. Cornwallis, wdio, supposing 
the campaign was closed, had taken passage for England, 
was directed to repair with all haste to his post, and soon a 
formidable army assembled at Princeton. On the 2d of 
January, 1777, Cornwallis put his columns in motion, and 
before daylight in the morning was in front of Trenton. 
Washington, who had ascertained from scouts in what over- 
whelming numbers the enemy was moving against him, 
withdrew his forces over the Assanpink, and planted bat- 
teries so as to command the bridge and the different fords 
in the vicinity. His position now became one of extreme 
peril. To make a successful stand there on the banks of 
the Assanpink was impossible, for so soon as Cornwallis 
should discern how small was the force opposed to him, he 
would by the mere weight of numbers crush it at once. To 
deliver battle, under the circumstances, would insure the 
utter overthrow of the army. Victory could not be dreamed 
of, while retreat was impossible, for the ice-filled Delaware 
was surging in rear, and before the enemy's cavalry the 
half-disciplined militia would become a herd of fugitives. 
One can hardly imagine what great object Washington had 
in view to compensate for the hazardous position he had 
voluntarily taken, for he now stood with his hands tied. 
Nothing was to be done except meet his fate manfully, un- 
less fortune or Heaven interfered in some unlooked for way 
in his behalf. One thing, however, was evident : he must 
gain time or be lost hopelessly. The night might bring 
relief, and he therefore sent forward detachments to harass 
the enemy's march and detain him as long as possible from 
reaching the Assanpink. Colonels Reed and Howard, and 
Captain Forest with the artillery, aided as they closed fiercer 
and sterner with the foe by Morgan and Miller, caused the 



208 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

vanguard to halt and the massive columns to close up in. 
order of battle. Waiting for the artillery to scour a wood 
in which the two latter officers lay concealed, and kept up 
an incessant, galling fire, the British were delayed two 
hours. This in all probability saved the American army. 
Washington stood on the shores of the narrow Assanpink 
and watched with the most painful anxiety the steadily ap- 
proaching fire. The gallant regiments that had thrown 
themselves so resolutely in the path of the enemy were 
being gradually forced back, and as they approached the 
banks of the stream Washington rode across and thanked 
them for their heroic conduct. He called on them to dis- 
pute every inch of ground, and retire only when necessary 
to save their pieces. A loud and cheering shout ran along 
their ranks, and the next moment their volleys were again 
telling on the enemy. But at length, being driven to the 
river, the order was given to defile over the bridge to the 
main army. The advance columns of the British followed 
eagerly after, and as they reached the shore attempted to 
force a passage, both at the fords and the bridge. But the 
well planted batteries of the Americans swept the heads 
of the advancing columns with such a deadly fire that 
they recoiled before it, leaving the stream filled with the 
dead. Between every discharge the whole army cheered. 

At length Cornwallis arrived with the remaining artillery, 
when a terrific cannonade was opened on the American 
lines. Battery answered battery, and the deep thunder 
rolled away over the plains, carrying consternation to the 
inhabitants. It was now sunset, and Washington expected 
every moment to see the heavy columns under the protection 
of their artillery move to the assault. Had this been done, 
there is but little doubt that the American army would have 
]jeen annihilated. Cornwallis, however, being ignorant of 
the force opposed to him, and not liking to make a decisive 
effort in the dark, resolved to wait till morning and renew 




EVACUATION OF BOSTON 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 211 

the attack. The stubborn resistance he had met with 
during the day, and the bold attitude of his antagonist, mis- 
led him, and he supposed Washington designed to offer him 
battle on the spot where he had drawn uj) his army. Ers- 
kine, who was with Cornwallis, remonstrated against this 
fatal resolution, declaring that in the morning Washington 
would not be there. The former, however, was firm, and 
soon the loud explosions of artillery gave way to the con- 
fused hum of the two armies as they sunk to their bivouacks, 
within sight of each other's camp-fires. Washington imme- 
diately called a council of war at the tent of St. Clair, to 
determine what course to adopt in this extremity. Judging 
from the large force opposed to him that many regiments 
had not been left behind at Princeton and Brunswick, he 
proposied by a circuitous vigorous night-march to get in the 
enemy's rear, and threatening at the same his stores at 
Brunswick and his communication with New York, frighten 
him back from Philadelphia. If Howe kept on, the city 
must inevitably fall, as the only obstacle between it and 
him would be removed, still the preservation of the army 
was now the great question, and not that of Philadelphia. 

This daring resolution to march back into the heart of 
New Jersey, and resume a furious ofiensive, at the very mo- 
ment when all defense seemed hoi^eless, was one of those 
inspirations of genius by which Bonaparte so often saved 
his army and empire. He wished to execute a» similar 
movement and march on Berlin, when pressed so heavily 
by the allies after tlie disastrous retreat from Russia, but he 
was overruled by his officers — took post at Leipsic, and was 
overthrown. He adopted the same bold resolution in his 
last struggle on the soil of France, and gaining the rear of 
the allies attempted to draw them back from Paris, but the 
latter would not be diverted from their purpose, and so 
reached the capital before him. 

There was, however, one apparently insuperable obstacle 



212 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

in the way of carrying out this daring plan. There had 
been a thaw, and the roads were so soft that it would he 
impossible to get forward the artillery, composed of forty 
pieces, rapidly enough to reach Princeton by morning. To 
the infinite delight of Washington this objection was most 
unexpectedly and suddenly removed — the wind changed 
into the north while the council was deliberating, and in 
two hours the roads were frozen as hard as iron. This 
settled the question, and preparations for marching were 
immediately set on foot. The baggage was sent down to 
Burlington, while fires were ordered to be kindled in front 
of the lines. The soldiers, scattered and in groups, roamed 
the fields, tearing down fences for fuel, and in a short time 
a bright fire blazed around the American camp. Guards 
were placed at the fords and bridge, and working parties 
were detailed as if to throw up trenches, the sound of whose 
heavy toil lulled into greater security the sentinels on watch. 
Washington kept up also his patrols, who were so near to 
those of the enemy that the countersigns of each could be 
distinctly heard by the other. 

At one o'clock in the morning the army began its stealthy 
march, and silently and swiftly defiled away from its in- 
trenchments. But the road chosen was unfortunately a new 
incomplete one, filled with stumps. Against these the 
wheels of the artillery, as they were driven rapidl}^ along, 
thumped heavily, and many of them were broken, thus 
seriously retarding the march. But for this the army would 
have reached Princeton before daylight, and Washington 
had time to have advanced on Brunswick, where large 
stores and .£70,000 were collected. It was a cold, bluster- 
ing night, and the scantily supplied troops, who had now 
been twenty-fours hours without sleep, and mostly without 
food, suffered severely. As it grew toward morning, Wash- 
ington kept exclusively with the advance column, watching 
eagerly for the daylight. At length the cold, gray dawn 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 213 

appeared, when the troops were hurried forward with 
greater speed. They were now close on Princeton, and as 
the bright sun rose over the hills, the white columns of 
smoke arising from the chimney-tops through the frosty 
air were a grateful spectacle to the hungry, weary and be- 
numbed soldiers. But the next moment there flashed forth 
in the wintry beams a long line of bayonets, and the whole 
road before the Americans was reddened with scarlet uni- 
forms. Three British regiments had been quartered over 
night at Princeton, whose arrival at the head-quarters of 
Cornwallis in the morning was to be the signal of a general 
assault on the American lines. Two of these were already 
on the march, and did not at first observe the main Ameri- 
can army, which, concealed behind a piece of woods, was 
swiftly passing along a by-road over a low piece of ground, 
straight for Princeton. General Mercer, with about three 
hundred and fifty soldiers, many of them young men of 
wealth from Philadelphia, was sent by Washington to take 
possession of the traveled highway to Trenton, and seize 
the bridge over which it passed and cut off any fugitives 
who might attempt to escape to Cornwallis. He had scarcely 
commenced his march when he became revealed to the 
astonished British. Mawhood, the commander, had just 
crossed the bridge on his way to Trenton, when this appari- 
tion burst upon him. Instantly seeing the danger he was 
in of being cut off" from Princeton, and attacked in the open 
country, he suddenly wheeled and recrossed the stream — 
reaching the opposite bank just as Mercer's column arrived. 
The two commanders then made a desperate effort to 
gain the high ground nearer Princeton, ascending the 
slope on opposite sides. Mercer was first up, and pressing 
through an orchard saw the British line rapidly approach- 
ing. A rail-fence lay between them, behind which the 
Americans took shelter and poured in a deadly volley. The 

British, who were advancing at the charge step, halted and 

12 



214 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

delivered their fire at the same moment. The lines were 
so near to each other that the smoke of the two volleys 
met and curled gracefully ujDward together in the morning 
sunlicrht. The moment the enemv had delivered their fire 
the order to charge was given, and they rushed forward 
with the hayonet. The Americans, many of them being 
armed only with rifles, soon broke and fled down the hill. 
Mercer, his horse being wounded, rushed on foot amid his 
men, endeavoring by word and example to rally them. 
With a portion of them he was in a hand to hand fight with 
the British, when a soldier leveled him to the ground with 
his musket. A half a dozen bayonets immediately gleamed 
over his breast, and the soldiers cried out, " call for quar- 
ters, you d — d rebel." Mercer indignantly refused, and cut 
at the nearest with his sword, when he was transfixed to 
the earth and left for dead.* As Mawhood pushed across 
the hill in j)ursuit of the flying detachment, he came to the 
brow that looked down on the army under Washington, 
moving rapidly up to the aid of Mercer. He saw the 

*nugh Mercer was a Scotchman by birth, and came to this country as a phy- 
sician, lie early entered the mihtary service, and served with Washington when the 
latter was a Virginia colonel. lie was wounded at the battle of Monongahela, and 
unable to keep up with Braddock's army in its wild retreat, lay down behind a 
log to die. The savages were all around hira, tomahawking the wounded and scalping 
the dead, yet he remained concealed, listening to the groans and diabolical yells 
that marked their infernal labor. At length as night drew in he was left alone with 
the forest and ghastly dead. Faint with the loss of blood, and parched with fever, 
Jiie crawled forth, and reaching a little rivulet quenched his raging thirst. Refreshed 
(by the cooling draught, he endeavored to follow in the track of the army. But he 
iWas a hundred miles from any settlement, and unable with his shattered shoulder 
'to obtain any food. Faint and exhausted, he was compelled to halt at short inter- 
vals and rest Slow death by famine now stared him in the face, but as he stumbled 
along be saw a rattlesnake in his path. By great exertion he succeeded in killing 
the viper. lie ihen with his unwounded arm and hand skinned him and devoured 
part of the flesh raw. The remainder he flung over his unwounded shoulder and 
pressed on. When the pangs of hunger could be no longer endured, or nature 
became exhausted, he would chew a piece of the reptile, and thus succeeded in 
reaching Fort Cumberland, though a mere walking skeleton. He survived the 
battle of Princeton but a few days, and died in great pain. He was a gallant 
ofiQcer, and his death was universally lamented. 



LIFE OF WASniXGTOX. 215 

latter, wlio was in advance of the main body with a select 
coqDS, ride forward to arrest the fugitives, and with his hat 
swinging above his head, gallop swiftly from j)oint to point 
to steady his trooi^s, who had already begun to feel the 
effects of the first panic. His quick eye detected at a glance 
the desperate odds against him, but taking advantage of the 
confusion the defeated detachment had created, he gallantly 
resolved to charge, and with loud shouts the troops rushed 
forward. Before the threatened shock the Americans began 
to recoil. Washington, knowing that defeat would be anni- 
hilation, no sooner saw his ranks begin to shake than he 
spurred forward, shouting to his astonished troops to follow 
him, and rode to within thirty yards of the enemy, and 
halted, while his staff gazed on him with astonishment. 
The hitherto wavering militia wheeled instantly into line. 
The enemy then halted and dressed their line also, and the 
order to fire passed simultaneously along the ranks of 
both. Washington still sat midway between the hvo, his 
eye turned full on the foe. One of his aids, horror-struck 
at the sight, dropped the reins upon his horse's neck and 
covered his face with his chapeau, so as not to see his com- 
mander fall. A crash of musketry followed, and when the 
smoke lifted there sat Washington, to the amazement of all, 
unharmed. The next moment his loud shout rose over the 
din of battle, and swinging his hat over his head for a ban- 
ner to those who pressed after, he spurred against the flying 
enemy. His favorite aid wept like a child at the spectacle, 
while Fitzgerald, another aid, and the finest horseman in 
the army, dashed up to him, and in the suddenness of his 
joy exclaimed, " Thank God your excellency is safe." Wash- 
ington gave one grasp of the hand to his weeping aid, and 
turning to Fitzgerald, exclaimed — " Away, my dear colonel — 
bri?ig up the troops, the day is our own." ''Long live Wash- 
ington!" rolled back over the field, and went up like a 
morning anthem to heaven. The second regiment ad- 



216 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

vancing to sustain the first, was also routed. All now was 
excitement and exultation in the American army, and the 
patriots forgetting the exhaustion of the last night's march 
streamed after the fugitives. 

The first heavy explosions of cannon at Princeton roused 
up Cornwallis, who thought it thundered. But Erskine 
knew too well what the sound betokened, and exclaimed, 
" To arms, general; the enemy is at Princeton!'^ A single 
glance at the empty intrenchments of the Americans re- 
vealed the whole terrible plot that had been sprung upon 
him, and the cry of " to arms," " to arms," and rapid roll 
of drums, and blast of the bugle sounded wildly through 
the camp, and in a few minutes artillery, infantry, and 
cavalry were thundering along the road toward Princeton, 
which lay only ten miles distant. Washington, knowing 
that the first sound of his guns would bring the enemy upon 
him, pressed the regiments he encountered with all the 
energy and vehemence in his power. lie also sent a de- 
tachment to destroy the bridge that Mercer had been directed 
to occupy, in order to arrest their progress and delay the 
pursuit. Major Kelley, who commanded it, had just begun 
to tear up the planks when the van of the British rose over 
the hill in the distance, coming on a run. The latter imme- 
diately threw a discharge of round shot into the detachment, 
which drove it away from the river. The Americans suc- 
ceeded, however, in tumbling all the planks into the stream, 
leaving only the skeleton of timbers standing. This 
stopi^ed the progress of the artillery, but Cornwallis, hearing 
the roar of Washington's cannon beyond Princeton, and 
fearing for his stores at Brunswick, ordered the soldiers into 
the stream where it was fordable. Breast deep they plunged 
in, and struggled bravely through the ice-filled channel. But 
they had scarcely mounted the opposite bank before the cold 
January morning froze their uniforms stiff upon them. Still 
the urgent order of the officers was " forward," " forward," 



LIFE OF ^YX^llINGTON. 217 

and the benumbed troops pressed on to Princeton- As the 
advance-guard approached the town an iron thirty- two 
pounder, left on a breast-work, was fired by some one, which 
brought them to a sudden pause. Cornwallis riding up, 
surveyed a moment the battery, and concluding that Wash- 
ington had made a stand there to offer him battle, ordered 
a halt. A sharp reconnoisance was immediately made by 
parties on horseback, and a whole hour was wasted in con- 
sulting on the best mode of taking this formidable battery. 
At length the steady columns moved forward to the assault, 
but meeting no resistance quietly entered the half-finished 
works, when to their amazement they found not a soul 
within. Washington all this time was chasing up the two 
regiments fleeing toward Brunswick. 

Having pursued the enemy as far as Kingston, he halted, and 
collecting his officers hastily around him on horseback, asked 
whether it was best to continue on to Brunswick. The prize 
was tempting, but Cornwallis was in close pursuit with a 
large army of fresh troops, supported by cavalry, while 
many of the Americans, having marched two whole nights 
without shoes and stockings, measuring the frozen highway 
and charging in battle barefoot, and that too without break- 
fast or dinner, were completely exhausted. It was resolved, 
therefore, to abandon the pursuit; and turning off into a 
laarrow road, the army reached Pluckemin that evening in 
safety, with three hundred prisoners, while between one and 
two hundred of the enemy had been left stark and stiff on 
the slopes before Princeton. Halting at the latter place 
only long enough to give his tired gallant little army food 
and rest, he pushed on to Morristown, where he soon after 
took up his winter-quarters. Here, girdled in by moun- 
tains from whose bases a country rich in supplies extended 
on every side, he gathered his victorious troops, but not to 
rest. Scarcely a morning passed without the bugle call re- 
sounding through the camp announced that a detachment 



218 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

was on the march to intercept or attack the foraging parties 
of the enemy. These were cut off or driven in so constantly 
that the British commander found it impossible to sustain 
his army except at those places which had open water com- 
munication with New York. Soon all New Jersey, but 
Brunswick and Amboy, were cleared of the enemy, and 
Philadelphia relieved from immediate danger. 

Thus in less than a single fortnight Washington, by a 
- succession of the most brilliant and daring manoeuvres on 
record, had lifted the nation out of the depths of despond- 
ency, gave confidence to the government, turned the tide 
of misfortune, and covered his tattered troops with glory. 
The shout of exultation that followed rung round the 
civilized world till even kings learned to reverence the name 
of Washington, and baptized him the " American Fabius." 
Such unexpected, sudden results, took friends and foes 
equally by surprise. The British commander was stunned. 
He had been chasing Washington all the autumn, endeavor- 
ing by every means in his power to provoke him to battle. 
He had taken more than four thousand prisoners — divided 
and reduced his army, till, without shelter and almost with- 
out clothing, it lay shivering on the banks of the Delaware. 
To this downward point he had forced it in mid-winter, 
when he thought it could not possibly resume successful 
operations. But just at this moment, when Washington 
was never so little able even to defend himself, the British 
commander saw him suddenly wheel about and breaking 
into one of the most furious offensives on record, fall like 
successive thunder-claps on his strong battalions, and roll 
them back at every point. He found that Washington, with 
all the wariness of the fox, had the terrible spring of the 
lion. 

The amount of suffering Washington endured in this long 
and tedious retreat, the noble struggles he had passed through 
to bear up against the want of supplies, of arms, and even 



LIFE OF AVASHIXGTOX. 219 

of ammunition — against a murmuring, rebellious, and, worse 
than all, cowardly army — against the sus^Dicion of his own 
officers and neglect of the very States he was striving to 
defend — against the jealousy of Congress — against poverty, 
destitution and wholesale desertion, will never be known. 
It remained locked up in his great heart, and even in after 
years was never spoken of. Neither shall we know what 
dreadful anxiety weighed him down after he had taken the 
desperate resolution he did, until success crowned his eftbrts. 
With his almost infallible judgment he had evidently mea- 
sured in its length and breadth the cause of the colonies, 
and knew that if he should continue to retreat, and Phila- 
delphia fall into the hands of the enemy, his demoralized 
army would disband, and spring find the current setting so 
strongly back toward the mother country that it would be 
impossible to offer any effectual resistance to the enemy. 
The moral eflfect of a victory he must have, or be lost, and 
he determined to risk all to gain it. It is evident he had 
made up his mind never to survive defeat. He felt he had 
reached the turning point in the struggle — beyond lay both 
hope and despair. In this crisis of his country's destiny, he 
resolved to occupy the post of greatest danger himself, and 
if the decree had gone out against his country, receive the 
first blow on his own breast. He was too noble, too great, 
to peril so fearfully his army and the cause of freedom, and 
wish to survive their overthrow. Hence, although com- 
mander-in-chief, he became in fact leader of the advance 
guard, both in the march on Trenton and Princeton, To 
the remonstrance of his officers in the first battle, not to 
expose his person so recklessly, he scarcely deigned a reply. 
At Princeton he planted himself where his death must in- 
evitably follow the desertion of his troops, and where it 
was almost certain to happen whatever the issue might be. 
He had reached a crisis demanding a sacrifice, and he cast 
himself and his little band on the altar, and by that sacri- 



220 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

fice, great as it was glorious, redeemed his country. The 
triumph was complete, but the officers trembled when they 
reflected at what peril to Washington it had been achieved, 
and besought him in future to be more prudent, for too 
great interests were bound up in his life to have it so 
lavishly exposed. 




THE BELLMAN INFORMED OF THE PASSAGE OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 22; 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Washington's Fame in Europe— Barbarity of the Hessians— Depredations of the 
Troops — General Heath summons Fort Independence to surrender — Washing- 
ton issues a counter Proclamation to that of Howe, which is poorly received in 
New Jersey— Five additional ]\Iajor Generals and ten Brigadiers appointed— In- 
human treatment of American Prisoners by the British— Arnold and Wooster 
drive Governor Tryon back to his ships— Meigs' Expedition to Sag Harbor— The 
British Evacuate New Jersey — Arrival of Lafayette — His Interview with Wash- 
ington — The British land at Elk and march on Philadelphia — Washington advances 
to meet them — Skirmishing — Washington re-crosses the Brandywiue and takes 
position near Chad's Ford — Position of the Northern Army, etc. 

An officer, writing from Morristown, after the battle of 
Princeton, said, " Our army love their general very much, 
but they have one thing against him : which is the little 
care he takes of himself in any action. His personal bravery 
and the desire he has of animating his troops by his ex 
ample make him fearless of danger. This occasions us much 
uneasiness. But Heaven, which has hitherto been his shield, 
will, I hope, still continue to guard his valuable life."* 

As one traces Washington through this campaign, and 
learns to appreciate all the difficulties that beset him, and 
looks into his secret heart and sees how pure, how noble, 
how unselfish and full of devotion to his country all his 
feelings are, he exclaims at every step, *' Incomparable Man!" 
No suspicion and distrust can excite his hostility, no re- 
proaches or unjust insinuations drive him into hasty action — 
no accumulation of disaster or oppression or want shake his 
purpose or unsettle for a moment his judgment. 

The nations of Europe had watched the progress of the 
struggle with great interest, and the news of these sudden 
victories at Trenton and Princeton, and of the first great 
check of the enemy, filled them with admiration. Says Botta, 

* Vide Sparks' Letters and Speeches of Washington. 



224 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

*' Achievements so astonishing gained for the American 
commander a very great reputation, and were regarded with 
wonder by all nations, as well as by the Americans. Every 
one aiDplauded the prudence, the firmness and the daring of 
General Washington. All declared him the saviour of his 
country ; all proclaimed him equal to the most renowned 
commanders of antiquity, and especially distinguished him 
by the name of the American Fabius. His name was in the 
mouths of all men, and celebrated by the pens of the most 
eminent writers. The greatest personages m Europe be- 
stowed upon him praise and congratulations. Thus the 
American general wanted neither a noble cause to defend, 
nor an opportunity for acquiring glory, nor the genius to 
avail himself of it, nor a whole generation of men compe- 
tent and well disposed to render him homage." 

Washington had no sooner got his army well housed in 
log huts, than he began, as before remarked, to send out de- 
tachments to cut oJBf English foraging parties. In this he 
received great assistance from the inhabitants, who, aroused 
by the atrocities committed by the Hessian and English 
troops, thirsted for vengeance. The pardon granted by 
Howe to those who took the oath of allegiance had been 
of no avail. The Hessian soldiers, looking upon the Ameri- 
cans as barbarians and outlaws, denied to friend and foe 
alike the protection usually extended to peaceful inhabitants 
by an invading army. The wintry heavens were made 
lurid with the flames of burning dwellings, and the shrieks 
of murdered men, and of women outraged and ravished in 
presence of their own families, were borne on every breeze 
over the land. 

Oppressed with a powerful army, the inhabitants had 
been compelled to remain passive under these aggravated 
acts of violence, and those who had taken the oath of 
alleefiance saw that their cowardice or lukewarmness in the 

o 

cause of their country, had only brought on them contempt 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 225 

and ruin. New Jersey had become a scene of horror and 
desolation, and the atrocities committed by the enemy 
were bruited over Europe, and awakened in the French 
peojDle the deepest indignation, who compared the EngUsh 
to the Goths and Vandals in their incursions airainst the 
civilized nations of Europe. This wholesale pillage of the 
inhabitants was not confined to the invaders, the American 
troops themselves sacked the dwellings of the wealthy, de- 
claring they were partisans of the king, and hence their 
property should be confiscated. 

But this sudden success of Washington put a different 
aspect on affairs. The outraged patriots flew to arms — 
many a wronged and robbed inhabitant became at once a 
spy, a scout, and a soldier, and did good service in scourging 
these marauders back. 

In the meantime Washington strung cantonments from 
Princeton to the Highlands, connecting his army with that 
of Heath, whom he had urged to make a demonstration 
against New York, for the purpose of compelling Howe to 
withdraw his troops from New Jersey and concentrate them 
in that city. This commander after much delay at length 
put his troops in motion, and appearing before Fort Inde- 
pendence, summoned it in a pompous manner to surrender. 
The whole exjDedition, however, proved a failure, and 
General Heath retired without any laurels to the High- 
lands. 

Washington, having witnessed the effect of Howe's pro- 
clamation on the people of New Jersey, and finding that 
many, though wholly estranged from the British cause by 
the barbarities under which they had suffered, still regarded 
their oath as binding them at least to a strict neutrality, 
issued a counter-proclamation, [January 25th,] in which he 
commanded all persons who had received protections from 
British commissioners to deliver them up at once, and take 
in place an oath of allegiance to the United States. Thirty 



226 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

days were allowed them in which to do it — after that time 
all who refused would be treated as enemies. This was the 
first palpable use Washington made of his dictatorial power, 
and the manner in which it was received by the state 
authorities of New Jersey argued poorly for its working in 
the country at large. It was asserted that, there being no 
confederation of the states formed, Congress had not the 
power to exact such an oath, and hence could not delegate 
it to another — that its assumj)tion by Washington was a 
direct encroachment uipon the prerogatives of the sej^arate 
states, to which alone this power belonged. The complaints 
extended even to Congress, and members were found tech- 
nical and unpatriotic enough to take sides with New Jersey. 
]VIi\ Abraham Clark, a delegate from this very State, and one 
of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, opposed 
it in Congress, and, in a letter to Colonel Dayton, jDlaced his 
objections on the grounds already mentioned, and added, " / 
believe the General honest but fallible." 

Previous to this, Washington had addressed an earnest, 
pressing letter to the Governor of the state, remonstrating 
against the raising of several battalions, as he had done, for 
the defense of the State alone, and not as a part of the con- 
tinental army. That letter, though courteous and guarded, 
is couched in language that could not be mistaken, and gave 
the Governor to understand most emphatically that the ex- 
traordinarj^ powers with which he had been invested were 
not an idle ceremony, but would be wielded when the 
exigencies of his condition required it. After speaking of 
the sujDcrior advantages of having the drafts made for the 
service of the country at large instead of the single state of 
New Jersey, he adds, " I am sure that the necessity of hav- 
ing the continental regiments immediately completed is too 
obvious to need any further arguments. I hope the powers of 
government are such as to complete the new levies by draft if they 
cannot be filled reasonably by voluntary enlistments. Necessity 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 227 

obliges me to call upon you, as I shall upon every other state, in 
the most pressing terms to complete, without delay, your propor- 
tion of the eighty-eight battalions." A call for the several 
quotas was also made from the other states, and Washing- 
ton employed the power given him, to collect and organize 
an army for a spring campaign. He also wrote to Congress, 
but this body seemed to have been suddenly exorcised of 
all its greatness, and much of its patriotism, and regarded 
his appeals apparently like petitions, which it had resolved 
beforehand to lay on the table. In the mode of ajDpointing 
five additional major-generals, and ten brigadiers, in obe- 
dience to the long and urgent request of Washington, they 
showed how small a portion they possessed of the self-de- 
nying patriotism and noble devotion to the interests of their 
country which characterized the commander-in-chief, about 
whose abuse of power they had been so solicitous. When 
the fate of the country was involved, and the salvation of 
the army depended, in a great measure, upon the ability 
and character of the commanding officers, their appointment 
was brought about by political shuffling, and used to gratify 
personal friendship or personal ambition. Each state had 
its favorite candidates, and each candidate his supporters. 
There were exceptions to this conduct, it is true, but, in the 
main, Washington was not consulted, and officers were 
forced on him he never would have chosen. In order to 
apportion them properly to the different states and thus 
gratify local jealousies, incompetent men were appointed, 
and in some instances made to outrank officers who had 
served from the outset of the war. The latter were indig- 
nant at this injustice, and it required all Washington's in- 
fluence to pacify them. The miserable and low view 
Congress took of its duties in this respect, resulting as it 
did in sowing dissensions in the army and increasing the 
embarrassment of Washington laid the foundation, doubtless 
of Arnold's after treason 



228 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

The pernicious precedent set at this time has ever since 
been followed, and probably will be to the end of the chap- 
ter. Congress, always ignorant of military matters, will 
thrust civilian generals on the army, just as the President 
dispenses offices, and political favor will carry a man to a 
higher grade than honorable scars. 

While the two armies lay in winter-quarters, negotiations 
were opened for an exchange of prisoners. Various offers 
had previously been made to effect the release of Lee, and 
both Washington and Congress were very anxious about his 
fate. Although Lee had resigned the commission which 
he held in the English army before he joined that of the 
colonies, Howe chose to regard him as a deserter, and 
treated him as such, and threatened to try him by court- 
martial. Congress immediately retaliated by placing Col. 
Campbell, a British prisoner, in a common jail, and refusing 
to five Hessian field-ofiicers, taken at Trenton, the usual 
privileges of prisoners of war. The English government 
fearing the effect of this treatment would be to disgust their 
mercenary troops with the service, relented, and allowed 
Lee to be regarded as a prisoner of war; and finally con- 
sented to his exchange. Washington opposed these retalia- 
tory measures as both inhuman and impolitic. " Why," he 
asked, " should an ineffectual attempt to relieve the dis- 
tresses of one brave, unfortunate man involve many more 
in the same calamities ?" It was bad policy, because the 
balance of prisoners was heavy against us, and hence, if the 
British commander followed our example, Americans would 
be by far the heaviest sufferers. Howe, to his credit be it 
said, did not retaliate, though it might be asserted with some 
show of truth that he could not, for to what more loathsome 
dungeons, or dreadful want and suffering, the American 
prisoners confined in New York could be doomed, it would 
be difficult to conceive. More unprovoked, useless barbaritj^, 
more cold-blooded, damning cruelty was never witnessed 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 229 

amid savages. The loathsome dens into which the victims 
were crowded were filled with stench and vermin ; and un- 
clad, unfed, uncared for, they died by hundreds, while those 
who survived till sjDring, came forth from their dismal 
abodes looking more like skeletons emerging from their 
graves, than strong-limbed soldiers whose only offense had 
been that of fighting for their fire-sides and their homes. 
Of the five thousand who had been locked up in the prisons, 
churches and sugar-houses of New York, but few sound, 
healthy men ever came out. An Irish cut-throat by the 
name of Cunningham had charge of the " New Jail," in 
which most of the American officers and the eminent Whigs 
were confined. This miscreant jailer kept those officers of 
rank and gentlemen of wealth in miserable cells, or con- 
fined in an upper chamber, and crowded so close together 
that when stretched at night on the plank floor, they could 
not turn over except all at once, at the word "right — left." 
He had a gallows erected, apparently for his own amuse- 
ment, on which he almost every night hung some poor 
wretch. His hour for these occasional recreations was just 
after midnight. Howe was too lazy and too indifferent to 
the fate of a few rebels to make any inquiries about the 
condition of his prisoners; and, although he does not stand 
charged with personal cruelty, he was guilty of a crime 
closely akin to it — utter indifference to whether it was prac- 
tised or not under his authority. He indignantly denied 
the charge which Washington made against him, but the 
facts, as afterward proved, and his statements are as wide 
apart as heaven and earth. 

So reduced had these prisoners become, that they were 
wholly unfit for duty, and when Howe proposed to exchange 
them, Washington refused to give the same number of 
healthy British and Hessian soldiers. Howe then accused 
him of violating the agreement made between them. 
Washington retorted in a withering letter, in which, after 



230 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

declaring that an exchange of strong, healthy soldiers for 
sick and helpless ones would be putting a premium on in- 
humanity, and that an agreement to exchange prisoners was 
based on the principle of equality, in not recognizing which 
he was really the one guilty of violating the compact, he 
adds, " It may, perhaps, be fairly doubted whether an ap- 
prehension of their death, or that of a great part of them, 
did not contribute somewhat to their being sent out when 
they were. Such an event whilst they remained with you would 
have been tndy interesting; because it would have destroyed 
every shadow of claim for a return of the prisoners in our 
hands ; and therefore policy concurring with humanity dic- 
tated that the measure should be adopted. Happy had it 
been if the expedient had been thought of before these ill- 
fated men were reduced to such extremity." He also ac- 
cuses him directly of treating the prisoners in his hands 
cruelly, and thus causing the death of large numbers. 

The measures proposed for an exchange of prisoners thus 
became embarrassed, and were not carried out until some time 
afterward. The balance of prisoners against the Americans 
after the battle of Princeton was about one thousand. The 
British having taken in all a little less than five thousand, 
and the Americans about four thousand. 

Spring opened without any general movement on the part 
of Howe. This was fortunate for Washington, as the en- 
listments for the war or for three years went on slowly, and 
the new levies arrived tardily and at long intervals, leaving 
the army weak and unable to offer any effectual resistance 
to Howe if he had taken the field vigorously. But he too 
was waiting for reinforcements, and tents and field equip- 
ments. In April, however, he sent Governor Try on with 
ten thousand men to destroy the stores at Danbury. But 
this officer was chased back to his ships by Arnold and 
Wooster ; the latter, though nearly three score and ten, gal- 
lantly leading on his men till shot down by the enemy. 




T E A U I X a JJ U \V X STATUE OF U E K G E III. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 233 

Another exjDedition Avas sent against Peekskill. These, 
however, Avere mere by 2^''*'^yS' ^o occupy the troops till the 
time for a grand and decided movement should arrive. 

Meanwhile Washington waited the further development 
of the plans of the enemy. The troops assembling from 
the East he ordered to concentrate at Peekskill, while those 
from the Middle States and Virginia were directed to join 
him at Morristown. It was evident that an enterprise was 
on foot, designed to crush the colonies at once, but in which 
direction the blow was about to fall remained in obscurity. 
A storm was brewing on the Canadian frontier, and whether 
Howe was preparing to cooperate with any movement in 
that direction, or push his way on to Philadelj)hia, could 
only be conjectured. 

In the meantime, internal troubles continued to vex and 
embarrass the commander-in-chief even more than the con 
duct of the enemy. The constant reports of men deserting — 
letters from officers all over the country, com^^laining of the 
neglect and injustice of Congress, and offering their resig- 
nation — the want of money and a commissary-general fur- 
nished daily and almost hourly annoyances which he had 
no power to escape. To some, like Arnold, he replied in 
the language of friendship and sympathy, to others he wrote 
sternly and rebukingly. Sullivan received a severe repri- 
mand for his childish complaints about not being entrusted 
with a separate command. Gates a lighter one, for asserting 
that an equal distribution of tents, etc. was not made to 
the different sections of the army. While the different 
military departments were thus exhibiting only weakness, 
Lieut. Col. Meigs, a comjDanion of Arnold in his bold march 
through the wilderness, showed what a single enterprising 
officer could do. Embarking on the 21st of May from New 
Haven, he sailed for Guilford, and there taking with him 
a hundred and seventy men, in whale-boats, crossed over to 
Southold, and dragging his boats over land to the bay be- 

13 



23^ LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

tween the north and south branches of the island, pushed 
on to Sag Harbor, where he arrived at two o'clock in the 
morning, and immediately with fixed bayonets charged the 
outposts of the British stationed there. The alarm was in- 
stantly given, and an armed schooner with twelve guns and 
seventy men opened its fire upon the Americans within less 
than thirty rods. The gallant detachment, however, pressed 
forward, driving the enemy before them, and having killed 
and captured nearly a hundred men, and destroyed twelve 
brigs and sloops and a large quantity of merchandise, retired 
without the loss of a man. Col. Meigs reached Guilford 
at two o'clock in the afternoon, having marched and rowed 
ninety miles in twenty-five hours, besides fighting the ene- 
my and destroying his ships and stores. 

At length "Washington moved his army, [May 21,] four- 
teen thousand strong, to Middlebrook, and intrenched himself 
in a strong position, resolved to give battle if the enemy ad- 
vanced. Howe, who had collected a large force at Brunswick, 
only nine miles distant, [June 31 ,] jDushed his lines into the 
country until his left rested on Millstone. Here he remained 
a week, hoping to tempt Washington from his stronghold to 
battle. But the latter having long before discovered what 
his raw troops were worth in an open field fight, refused to stir 
from his position. Howe then returned to Brunswick, 
evacuated it, and retreated to Amboy, pursued and harassed 
by General Greene, with three regiments. "Washington 
followed with the main army to Quibbletown. The moment 
Howe saw that he had decoyed Washington out into the 
open country, wheeled, and marched swiftly to the Ameri- 
can left, hoping to turn it and gain the high ground beyond. 
Had he succeeded, a battle would have been inevitable. 
Washington, however, was too quick for him. The roar 
of cannon, and heavy explosions of small arms in that 
direction, as the enemy came in collision with a detachment 
of seven hundred Americans, revealed the well-laid scheme. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 235 

Though severely pressed, he fell back, and reached his 
strong position at Middlebrook in safetj^. As soon as Howe 
saw Washington quietly in his den again, he gave up all 
attempts to bring on an engagement, and, abruptly leaving 
the Jerseys, passed over to Staten Island. Washington, who 
from boyhood had shown a peculiar love of agricultural 
pursuits, indeed seems to have had a positive attachment to 
the soil, saw with pleasure the withdrawal of the troops. 
It pained him deeply to behold the green fields ready for 
the mower, filled with the marching columns, and the ripen- 
ing grain trampled down by the ruthless hoof of war, or 
wrapt in conflagration. In a letter to Armstrong, he says, 
" The evacuation of Jersey at this time seems to be a pecu- 
liar mark of Providence, as the inhabitants have an oppor- 
tunity of securing their harvests of hay and grain." The 
farmer was never forgotten in the warrior, and the husband- 
man always received his peculiar attention. 

The relief which this apparent abandonment of all im- 
mediate attempts against Philadelphia gave, was only 
momentary, for on the very next day a courier arrived in 
camp, bringing the astounding intelligence that Burgoyne, 
with ten thousand men, an artillery train of forty pieces, the 
whole commanded by officers of experience and renown, 
had crossed the St. Lawrence from Canada, and was moving 
against Ticonderoga. Whether Howe, under these cir- 
cumstances, would renew his attempts against Philadelphia, 
or endeavor to form a junction with Burgoyne, and thus 
separate the New England provinces from their brethren, 
was the important problem which Washington endeavored 
to solve. If the former course was adopted he must hover 
around Philadelphia ; if the latter, his army could not be 
too soon in the strong passes of the Highlands. Howe was 
certainly collecting a large fleet, and evidently either for 
the purpose of ascending the Hudson, or of going by sea to 
Philadelphia. At length news was brought that the British 



236 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

army was embarking. Wasliington immediately dispatched 
Lord Stirling to Peekskill, while he himself, still uncertain 
of the enemy's purpose, slowly followed by way of Ramapo, 
and finally encamped in the pass of the Clove. In the 
meantime he ordered the two brigades of Parsons and 
Varnum from the east to Peekskill — wrote to Governor 
Clinton to call out the militia, and hastened off a courier to 
Schuyler, who commanded in the northern department, to 
hold on to Ticonderoga. All eyes were suddenly turned to 
the northward, where the great and decisive conflict seemed 
about to take place. Roused by the impending danger, the 
settlers along the rich banks of the Mohawk, and the hardy 
yeomanry of Vermont and Massachusetts, and Connecticut 
and New York left their fields burdened with the rich pro- 
mise of a coming harvest, and hastened to strike hands and 
move shoulder to shoulder with the battle-cry of freedom 
"on their lips, against the common invader. 

But while Burgoyne was slowly pushing the heads of his 
massive columns through the northern wilderness, the fleet 
of Howe hoisted sail and moved slowly down toward the 
Hook. The news no sooner reached Washington than he 
dispatched messengers to Sullivan and Stirling, at Peekskill, 
ordering them instantly to recross the Hudson, and hasten 
by the most direct routes to the banks of the Delaware^ 
where he would wait their arrival. But though the vessels 
were moving seaward, he was still doubtful of Howe's de- 
signs, and resolved to remain where he was till he could 
ascertain them more fully. At length it was reported that 
the ships had been seen off the Capes of the Delaware. The 
army was then marched rapidly to Germantown, and Wash- 
ington hurried forward to Chester, to gather more accurate 
intelligence. Here he was told that the fleet had again 
stood to the eastward and disappeared. Baffled by this 
strange conduit — without the least data to act on, Washing- 
ton was compelled to base his movements entirely on con- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 2Lo7 

jecture. It was plain that nothing could be done till the 
enemy's plans developed themselves more fully. He, there- 
fore, ordered Sullivan to take post in New Jersey, ready to 
move in either direction, while the main army was quar- 
tered at Germantown, prepared to march at a moment's 
warning. 

While things were in this harassing and trying state of 
suspense, Washington rode over to Philadelphia, to confer a 
day or two with committees of Congress. He here, for the 
first time, met the young Marquis of Lafayette, whose ar- 
dent and noble espousal of our cause eventually Avrought 
such a change in our prospects. A mere stripling, eighteen 
years of age, rolling in wealth, and basking in the sunshine 
of court favor, he tore himself away from all the luxuries 
that surrounded him — from the arms of a young and af- 
fectionate wife, whose expostulations and reproaches were 
harder to be borne than the threats of his friends and frowns 
of his king, to struggle in an almost hopeless cause, in a 
foreign land. Purchasing a vessel, and clothing and arms 
for soldiers at his own expense, he, with the brave De Kalb 
and eleven other officers set sail for America. After a voy- 
age of nearl}?- two months, he reached Charleston, and, dis- 
tributing arms and clothing to a hundred and fifty of the 
gallant defenders of Sullivan's Island, mounted his horse and 
rode nine hundred miles to Philadelphia. 

Silas Deane had been for some time our minister at Paris, 
and with Franklin and Arthur Lee, who were afterward 
added to the embassy, was endeavoring to enlist France in 
our struggle. With the former young Lafayette had made 
an agreement respecting the rank he was to hold in the rebel 
army. But Congress received the letters which he presented 
coldly, for it had been much embarrassed of late with ap- 
plications of foreign officers for appointments, which, if 
made, would deeply offend our own officers. Only a few 
we.eks before, Knox, Greene, and Sullivan, hearing that a 



238 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Frenchman by the name of Decoudray, had been appointed 
major-general, his appointment to be antedated, so as to out- 
rank them, abruptly sent in their resignations. Besides all 
other considerations Lafayette was a mere boy, only nineteen 
years of age, and could not be considered fit for a position 
of responsibility. Being told that his request would proba- 
bly be denied, he sat down and wrote a note to Congress, 
saying — " After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right 
to exact two favors; one is to serve at my own expense, the other 
to serve at first as a volunteer." This magnanimity was too 
much for Congress, and it immediately made out his com- 
mission. The next day he was introduced to Washington 
at a dinner party. As it was about breaking up, the latter 
took him aside and spoke to him long and tenderly. The 
tall, commanding general of nearly fifty, and that youth of 
nineteen, presented a most interesting contrast as the one 
spoke of freedom, and the other stood and reverently 
listened, every feature beaming with excitement. There 
was something in the enthusiastic love for liberty of this 
young stranger — the revelation of an exalted purpose, not 
to be shaken by neglect or suffering — a noble, unselfish de- 
votion, so unlike the petty rivalries, groundless jealousies, 
and selfish behavior of some of his own officers, that touched 
the tenderest chord of Washington's nature. His great, 
grand heart opened to him at once like a fiither, and from 
that hour Lafayette became a son, returning the wealth of 
affection lavished on him with all the devotion of his im- 
pulsive, impassioned, generous nature. Washington told 
him to consider himself at all times as one of his own 
family, but he must not expect to find in the republican 
army, the luxuries of a court, or the comforts even of an 
ordinary camp. Both the one and the other were indifferent 
to Lafayette, who had already triumphed over infinitely 
greater difficulties, and endured more suffering than could 
be meted out to him in the American army. That night he 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 239 

sent his horses and equipage to camp, and became an Ameri- 
can soldier. His after career in connection with our cause, 
and with Washington, furnishes some of the most interest- 
ing incidents in American history. That apparently boyish 
enthusiasm proved to be the solid judgment and inherent 
principles of the man, and as he stood in all the fiery ardor 
of youth before Washington, so he afterward stood with 
white locks amid the infuriated mobs of Paris and Ver- 
sailles. The impression Washington made on him may be 
inferred from the letter describing his first interview. In 
it he says — " Although he was surrounded by officers and 
citizens, it was impossible to mistake for a moment his ma- 
jestic figure and dejDortment." His surprise, however, at 
the army was equal to his admiration of Washington. On 
the very day he arrived in camp there was a grand review 
of the whole eleven thousand men, and the young marquis 
never before even in imagination beheld such a spectacle. 
Many were in their shirt sleeves — many without any shirts 
to their backs, their whole uniform consisting of a pair of 
pantaloons, while the majority of those who were clad wore 
simply long linen hunting-shirts. These were drawn up in 
two long lines — the smaller soldiers occupying the first 
line — presenting a most striking contrast to the military 
bearing and manner of their commander. "As to their 
military tactics," he wrote home, " it will be sufficient to say 
that for a regiment ranged in order of battle, to move forward on 
the right of its line it was necessary for the left to make a con- 
tinued countermarch.'' The next day Washington took 
Lafayette with him to inspect the fortifications of the Dela- 
ware. As they rode along together, the former soon dis- 
covered that his young protege possessed a knowledge of 
military matters by which the oldest generals in the service 
might profit. 

Though Congress continued its sessions in apparent tran- 
quillity, the greatest excitement prevailed throughout the 



240 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

city and country. Sentinels were on every high peak that 
overlooked the ocean, sweeping the water in every direction 
with glasses to detect the first appearance of the fleet, whose 
approach was so much dreaded. But day after day passed 
by, and still no tidings of it came from the seaboard. At 
last the lookouts caught a glimpse of it, leagues away to 
the south of the capes of Delaware. Washington imme- 
diately inferred that its destination was south, probably 
Charleston. Ten days more passed by, and as nothing 
further was seen of it, a council of war was called, in which 
it was resolved to march back toward the Hudson, either to 
operate against Burgoyne, or, if circumstances proved fa- 
vorable, to attack New York. Every thing was got ready 
to march, when on that very morning the exciting report was 
brought that the fleet was already two hundred miles up the 
Chesapeake Bay, and standing steadily on. It was now evi- 
dent that Philadelphia was the object of attack, though, as 
Washington said, the enemy had taken a strange route to 
reach it. This at once relieved him from all indecision re- 
specting the northern army. Previous to this, not only was 
he annoyed beyond measure by the surrender of Ticonde- 
roga, the defense of which had been entrusted to St. Clair, 
but at the apparently resistless manner in which Burgoyne 
moved southward. He had sent the gallant Morgan with 
his five hundred riflemen north, and in announcing it to 
Governor Clinton said he thought it would be a good plan 
to let the fact be pretty well circulated, as well as to ex- 
aggerate their numbers, for these troops were the terror of 
the Indians. In this, which is dated on the very day of the 
battle of Bennington, he speaks of Stark's intention to close 
on Burgoyne's rear as a most excellent plan. As things 
grew worse and worse. Congress recalled both Schuyler and 
St. Clair, and put Gates over the northern army. Wash- 
ington had also sent Arnold north, a host in himself. Still, 
so long as Howe's movements remained undeveloped he could 







YOUNG CALLENDER FIGIITIXG HIS GUN. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 243 

not call on the New England states to hasten to New York 
state to resist the mvasion of Burgoyne. But now all im- 
mediate danger to the eastern board was removed, and he 
wrote to Putnam to press on Governor Trumbull the urgent 
necessity of getting the whole force of New England " to 
turn out, and by following the great stroke struck by General 
Stark near Bennington, entirely crush General Burgoyne.'' 

In the meantime the militia from Delaware, Maryland 
and Pennsylvania turned out, and the country was alive 
with armed citizens, hastening to the defense of Philadel- 
phia. Sullivan, who had just been rudely repulsed in an 
attack on Staten Island, was also ordered from the Jerseys, 
and the army soon assumed a formidable appearance, at 
least in magnitude. 

At length the reconnoitering parties came in and an- 
nounced that the enemy were landing near the head of Elk 
river. [Aug. 25th.] Washington advanced to meet them, 
and taking Philadelphia in his route, marched through the 
city with flying banners and martial music, cheered by the 
multitude. This was done to encourage the patriots and 
check the movements of the disaffected and disloyal. The 
next day after the British effected a landing a heavy rain 
storm set in, which deluged both friends and foes, and in- 
jured the arms and ammunition of each. Washington at 
the outset sent forward skirmishing parties to harass the 
enemy, while he pressed on with the main army. Between 
these and the advance detachments of the British severe 
conflicts took place, ending, of course, in the retreat of the 
Americans, as the heavy columns of their adversaries closed 
upon them. On the 28th the Americans took some forty 
prisoners. Twenty deserters also arrived in camp, who 
stated that the infantry of the enemy was in good condi- 
tion, but that the horses were knocked up by their long 
voyage. This was fortunate, as Washington's cavalry, under 



244 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Pulaski,* was too feeble to cope with any considerable force, 
while the country presented an admirable field for the move- 
ments of horse. 

The next day Captain Lee took twenty- four more prison- 
ers. Five days after, Cornwallis, while advancing with his 
column, was suddenly assailed by Maxwell's regiment, the 
riflemen of which, having formed a sort of ambuscade, 
poured in a deadly fire upon him. But swept by the ar- 
tillery and pressed by the formidable masses of the enemy, 
this brave regiment was compelled to retire with the loss 
of forty killed and wounded. The British reported their 
loss to be twenty-two, though a woman from their camp 
next day said she saw nine wagon loads of wounded brought 
in. They doubtless suffered more severely than they ac- 
knowledged ; in fact, as a rule, it was always safe to multi- 
ply the current account given by the enemy of their loss 
by three. The two armies had continued to draw closer 
together, and now stood front to front, and a battle was 
daily expected. Philadelphia was the prize to be struggled 
for, and Howe and Washington both determined that the 
conflict should be a decisive one. The latter took position 
behind Red Clay Creek, directly across the route leading to 
the city. Howe then advanced, and being joined by General 
Grant, made a feint to attack the Americans, but instead of 
concentrating his forces at the assailing point, extended his 
lines far away to the American right. The two armies 
were now only two miles apart, and threatened momentarily 
to come in collision, when Howe ordered a halt. Washing- 
ton, whose experience during the last campaign had taught 
him to distrust every movement of Howe, soon discovered 
that a flank movement was being made to cut him ofi" from 

* Previous to this there had been no officer in the cavalry of higher rank than 
colonel. Reed, after being made brigadier, was offered the command, but declined. 
It was then given to Count Pulaski, a Polish officer of great distinction and 
bravery. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 245 

Philadelphia, and hem him in on a narrow tongue of land 
from which escape would be impossible, and where he would 
be compelled under disadvantageous circumstances to fight 
a decisive battle. He therefore, after carefully reconnoi- 
tering the enemy, passed the order quietly through the 
camjD to march, and at two o'clock in the morning of the 
9th of September withdrew his army toward the Brandy- 
wine, and crossing the river, took possession of the high 
grounds on the opposite side, near Chad's Ford. 

While Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware and Mary- 
land were gazing with mingled expectations and fears on the 
two armies under Washington and Howe, as they slowly 
closed on each other, and the whole country was filled with 
conflicting rumors, agitating and cheering by turns, the 
works were rapidly going up at Saratoga, from which waa 
to recoil the veteran army of Burgojme. Stark had dealt 
him a staggering blow by his victory over Baum at Ben- 
nington, while Gansevoort's gallant defense of Fort Stanwix, 
had frustrated his plans in that direction. From every val- 
ley and mountain slope the sturdy yeomanry went pouring 
in to Gates, their patriotism kindled into brighter glow by 
the shouts of victory that came rolling from Vermont, and 
down the Mohawk from Fort Stanwix and the bloody field 
of Oriskany; and their rage redoubled to see the enemy 
with his ruthless savage allies in the very midst of their 
autumnal fields, and ravaging the firesides of the innocent 
and the helpless. Washington's anxiety for the fate of the 
northern army was equal to that for his own, and he listened 
with as deep a solicitude for the reports that might reach 
him thence, as he did to the thunder of the enemy's cannon 
in his front. In the meantime, Burgoyne finding himself 
cut off from the assistance of St. Leger by way of the Mo- 
hawk, and a dark storm-cloud gathering in his rear, extin- 
guishing the last hope that illumined the weary wilderness 
he had traversed, and seeing a mighty army rising as it 



246 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 

were from the very earth before him, surveyed with a stem 
and gloomy eye the prospect that surrounded him. The 
second crisis in the American Revolution had come. With 
the simultaneous defeat of the northern and southern armies 
the nation would be prostrated, and the last hope of securing 
the alliance of France extinguished. Two such calamities 
would darken the land with despair, and fill the friends of 
freedom every where with despondency and gloom. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 247 



CHAPTER TX. 

Battle of Brandywine — A new account of the loss of the British, found among 
General Clinton's papers — Washington again offers Howe battle — Defeat of 
Wayne at Paoli — Philadelphia taken — Fortifications erected at Mud Bank and 
Red Bank — Tenacity of Washington — Battle of Germantown — Cause of the De- 
feat of the Americans. 

On the morning of the 11th of September the American 
army, eleven thousand strong, lay stretched along the Bran- 
dywine, whose shallow bed at that time, the stream being 
very low, furnished frequent fording-places. Washington 
concentrated his main force against the most important of 
these, called Chads' Ford. The right wing, comjDosed of 
the three brigades of Sullivan, Stirling, and Stephens, ex- 
tended up the river, to look out for the fords in that direction, 
while Armstrong with a thousand militia guarded Pyles' Ford, 
the only one below. At daybreak Howe put half of his 
force under Cornwallis, and accompanying it in person, took 
a road running nearly parallel with the Brandywine, a few 
miles inland, for the purpose of ascending the stream be- 
yond the farthest outposts of the American army, and cross- 
ing it unperceived, come down on Washington's flank. This 
extraordinary movement, by which an army was separated 
seventeen miles, a movement similar to one which, but from 
mere accident or treachery, would have overthrown the 
allies at Waterloo, here also, by a strange fatuity, was 
destined to be completely successful. It was a foggy morn- 
ing, and a dense forest darkened the bank of the stream, on 
the side where the British lay, almost the entire distance. 
About nine o'clock Knyphausen, with the other division of 
the army, took up his line of march directly for Chads' 
Ford, where Wayne commanded. The fog soon lifted and 



Z48 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

rolled away, and the long lines of gleaming bayonets looked 
like streams of light through the forest, as in beautiful 
order, and to the sound of fife and drum the columns 
pushed their way to the river. But the woods as they pro- 
ceeded seemed alive with Americans, who, concealed by the 
thick foliage, kept up an incessant attack upon the advance 
parties and strewed the green uniforms thickly under the 
greener arcades. Maxwell, who commanded them, made 
such havoc with his sharp-shooters that a strong corps was 
sent against him, which forced him back upon the Brandy- 
wine. Here, met by reinforcements, he turned furiously 
on his pursuers, driving them before him till they closed 
in with the main column. Knyphausen then sent a large 
detachment to take Maxwell in flank, but the latter de- 
tecting the movement, ordered a retreat and recrossed to 
Wayne. Having cleared the woods of the enemy, Knyp- 
hausen moved forward and drew up his division on the bank 
and began to plant his cannon. The Americans were in 
high spirits, and several detachments boldly dashed into the 
stream, and securing a footing on the farther side, fell with 
loud shouts on the working parties and those detailed to 
guard them. Knyphausen, enraged at these constant and 
bold attacks, ordered forward a large force, which advancing 
to the charge forced the Americans to a rapid retreat. 
They came on a run through the water which was dashed 
into spray by the shower of bullets that fell around them. 
In the meantime Knyphausen opened a heavy cannonade 
on Wayne, who returned it with spirit, and to all appear- 
ance the main effort was to be made at this ford. The 
former manoeuvered his troops so as to convey the impres- 
sion of a much larger force than he possessed, while at the 
same time he was apparently making extensive preparations 
for an immediate assault on Wayne's battery. While 
Washington was watching the effect of this heavy cannon- 
ade, Sullivan, who had been ordered to take care of the 



LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 249 

fords above him, received the following note from Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Ross : ' 

" Great Valley Road, 11 o'clock, a. m. 

Dear General, — A large body of the enemy, from every 
account five thousand, with sixteen or eighteen field-pieces, 
marched along this road just now. This road leads to Tay- 
lor's Ferry, and Jeffrey's Ferry on the Brandywine, and to 
the Great Valley at the sign of the Ship, on the Lancaster 
Road to Philadelphia. There is also a road from the Brandy- 
wine to Chester, by Dilworthstown. We are close in their 
rear with about seventy men. Captain Simpson lay in am- 
bush with twenty men, and gave them three rounds within 
a small distance, in which two of his men were wounded, 
one mortally, I believe. General Howe is with this party, 
as Joseph Galloway is here known by the inhabitants, with 
whom he spoke and told them that General Howe was with 
him. Yours, James Boss, 

Lieutenant -Colonel. 

Here was accurate information from a responsible officer, 
and every road designated by him should have been secured 
beyond the Brandywine. Ross had seen the army, nay, 
fired into it, and was steadily following it in its rapid march 
up the river. Its destination was apparent to the most 
casual observer, and how, after such information, Sullivan 
could allow himself to be surprised by an army of five 
thousand men, dragging a heavy train of artillery after them 
baffles all explanation. 

Washington immediately penetrated Howe's design, and 
resolved to defeat it by sending Sullivan to occupy him, 
while he, with the rest of the army, would cross over, and 
falling on Knyphausen in rear and front at the same time, 
crush him before the other division could arrive. This 
daring resolution was the inspiration of true genius, and had 
it been carried into effect, Brandywine would doubtles have 
been another Saratoga to the British. He issued his orders 



^' 



250 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

at once, and riding along the lines to animate the troops, 
was received with loud huzzas; and "long live Washington," 
rolled over the field. General Greene was ordered to lead 
the advance, and crossing above Knyphausen assail him in 
flank and rear. In a few minutes the field was alive with 
the marching columns. At this critical moment another 
aid came gallophig in from Sullivan, who reported no ene- 
my around the forks of the Brandy wine. This was a fatal 
mistake, and Washington immediately reversed his orders, 
and the army again took up its former position. It was 
now high noon, and Knyphausen having received dispatches 
from Cornwallis announcing that the river was won, ojDcned 
on the Americans with a tremendous discharge of artillery 
and musketry, so as still more to confirm the delusion under 
which he saw Washington was evidently laboring. 

In the meantime Cornwallis had formed his troops on 
the banks of the stream, and was coming rapidly down on 
Sullivan's flank. 

A Squire Cheney, reconnoitering on his own responsibility 
the movements of the enemy, suddenly came upon the ad- 
vance as he was ascending a hill. He immediately wheeled 
his horse, a fleet, high-spirited animal, and dashed away to- 
ward head-quarters. Shots were fired at him, but he escaped 
and reached the American army in safety. To his startling 
declaration that the main body of the enemy was on his 
own side of the stream, and coming rapidly down upon 
him, Washington replied that it was impossible, for he had 
just received contrary information. " You are mistaken Gen- 
eral, my life for it you are mistaken,''^ exclaimed Cheney, and 
carried away by the great peril that threatened the Ameri- 
cans, added, " By h — 11 it is so ; put me under guard until 
you find my story true," and, stooping down, he drew a 
rough draft of the road in the sand. In a few moments a 
hurried note from Sullivan confirmed the disastrous tidings. 
The enemy were only two miles from the Birmingham 




VYA&III^UTO^ l.NDEA\ORI>.G TO RALLY THE FUGITIVES 



LIFE OF AVASHINGTON. 253 

Meeting-House, which was but three miles from Chads' 
Ford. Washington saw at once the fatal error into which 
he had been beguiled by the false information of Sullivan, 
and saw, too, that in all human probability the day was lost. 
Suddenly calling to his side his aids, he asked if there was 
any one near acquainted with the country, who could guide 
him by the shortest route to Birmin2i;ham Meetino--House. 
An elderly man named Brown, living in the vicinity, was 
instantly seized and asked to act as guide. He began to 
make excuses, when one of Washington's aids, mounted on 
a splendid charger, lea^^ed to the ground and told the old 
man to mount at once, and conduct the General by the 
shortest, quickest route to the meeting-house, or he would 
run him through with his sword. Alarmed by the threat, 
Brown mounted and pushed straight across the country, his 
high-bred animal taking the fences in his course like a 
hunter. Washington with his suite pressed after, and 
though the old man seemed to fly over the fields and fences, 
the head of Washington's horse constantly lapped the flank 
of the animal he rode, and there rung continually in his 
ears from the excited, anxious chieftain by his side, '' Push 
along old man ; push along old man." The fate of his army 
was trembling in the balance, and no fleetness could equal 
his burning impatience to be at the point where it was so 
soon to be decided, for already the loud roar of cannon and 
rattle of musketry ahead, told him that the shock had come. 
The tremendous cannonading at Chads' Ford, blending in 
with that around Birmingham Meeting-House, needed no 
additional confirmation of the deep disaster that had over- 
taken him. As he approached the scene of conflict the 
balls fell so thick around him that the old man stole away. 
His absence was unnoticed, for his services were no longer 
needed ; the roar of battle and shouts of men were a suffi- 
cient guide. When Washington first set out he had ordered 

Greene to advance with his division, as fast as possible, to 

14 



254 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the support of Sullivan. The latter with two brigades im- 
mediately pushed forward. The brigade under Weadon led 
off, and starting on a trot, with trailed arms, made the four 
miles that intervened between them and the enemy in the 
astonishingly short time of forty minutes. Not a sound was 
heard from this noble brigade save the clatter of their arms 
and panting of the men as shoulder to shoulder they swept 
like cavalry to the rescue of their comjianions. 

Sullivan had been completely taken by surprise, but with 
his accustomed bravery strove to remedy the error that had 
been committed. Rapidly advancing to a gentle slope near 
the meeting-house, he formed his line in an open space, 
each extremity resting on thick woods. But in executing a 
manoeuvre designed to thwart a French General Deborre, 
who insisted on occupying the right of the line contrary to 
his orders, his brigade did not arrive on the field in time to 
get fully into position before the action commenced. Howe 
on his huge raw-boned horse, Cornwallis glittering in scar- 
let and gold, together with other officers, sat grouped on 
Osborne Hill, and watched with unfeigned surprise the beau- 
tiful, regular formation of the American line. 

Tlie battle was commenced by an advance company of 
Hessians, who crossed the road, and resting their pieces on 
the fence fired at a small body of Americans in an adjoin- 
ing orchard. Soon the field was piled with baggage, blan- 
kets, etc., thrown aside under the opj)ressive heat, and the 
troops went pouring forward to the conflict. The artillery 
opened, and the contest became close and murderous. The 
American troops, though most of them were undisciplined 
militia, behaved with astonishing coolness. From their 
steady, deliberate volleys the disciplined ranks of the enemy 
recoiled in amazement. The chasseurs came charging down 
the slope with clattering armor and to the sound of trum- 
pets, but could not break the firm formation. Grenadiers 
and guards were each and all hurled back, but the over- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 255 

whelming numbers continued to pour forward, bearing down 
by mere weight alone the American ranks, till at last they 
began to shake and undulate over the field. Sullivan, who 
had seen two of his aids fall by his side, galloped along the 
disordered line, and strove by word and gesture to animate 
the soldiers to another effort. But his example and appeals 
were alike in vain. First the right and then the left wing 
broke and fled toward Chads' Ford. Finding his troops 
could not be rallied, he then separated from them, and 
threw himself into a part of Stirling's division, in the cen- 
tre, which still heroically maintained its ground. Here was 
also the youthful Lafayette, kindling by voice and gesture 
the enthusiasm of the men. Dismounting from his horse 
he passed through the ranks exposing himself like a com-' 
mon soldier, when a musket ball pierced his leg. Corn- 
wallis seeing with what stubborn resolution this band of 
eight hundred men maintained their ground, ordered his ar- 
tillery to be concentrated upon them. The effect was instan- 
taneous, and the troops, scourged into madness by the close, 
deadly fire, fled to the woods for protection. Washington, 
in the meantime, had ordered Greene to take possession of 
Dilworth's Pass, and hold it against the enemy. He did 
so, and as the fugitive Americans came on he would open 
his ranks and let them flow to the rear, then close again and 
present a firm front to the enemy. 

The heavy conflict at Birmingham Meeting-House, and 
the sudden departure of Greene's division, was the signal 
for Knyphausen to advance. The head of his column en- 
tered the stream under the protection of the heavy batteries, 
and though severely shaken by Wayne's artillery, pressed 
firmly forward. The American force was too small to resist 
half the whole British army for any length of time, and 
though Wayne bore up nobly against the unequal numbers 
for awhile, he saw, after Sullivan's defeat, that a retreat was 
inevitable. This, however, was hastened, in fact became a 



256 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

flight, at the appearance of a large body of the enemy 
emerging from the woods above him, and hastening along 
the banks of the Bnmdywine, to take him in flank and rear. 
Leaving behind all their stores and artillery, the broken and 
disordered columns helped to swell still more the tumultu- 
ous torrent that rolled on. Greene, however, firmly main- 
tained his position amid the turbulence and uproar of the 
pursuit and the flight, and unshaken alike by the wreck that 
tossed around him, and the assaults of the victorious and 
confident enemy, saved the army from destruction. Behind 
him, as an impregnable rampart, the defeated but not dis- 
heartened troops rallied and demanded to be led again to 
the attack. Muhlenburg and Weadon with their two bri- 
" gades fought nobly to defend this pass. The latter was 
formerly an innkeeper in Virginia — the former a clergyman 
of the established church in the same state. The martial 
spirit of the divine kindling at the wrongs heaped upon his 
country, he preached his farewell sermon to his people, 
saying at the close that there was a time to fight as well 
as to pray, and that time had come. He had been pre- 
viously elected colonel, and now taking ofi" his gown and 
putting on his regimentals he walked amid his congregation, 
and ordered the drum to beat for recruits at the church-door, 
and before night had three hundred men at his back. He 
did good service in the south, and here at the Pass of Dil 
worth, covered his brigade with glory. During the battle 
and the flight Washington had been everywhere present, 
directing and guiding all things. Night was now drawing 
on, and many of the oflicers enraged at the result of the 
day's action, demanded to be led against the enemy. " You 
must obey my orders," said Washington. " Our only re- 
source is to retreat." Greene, whose blood was up from 
the conflict and defeat, asked how fiir they must retreat. 
" Over every hill and across every river in America if I order 
you,^' was the stern reply. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 257 

As niglit came on the firing ceased, and the American 
army retreated in confusion toward Chester. The roads 
leading thither were crowded with men, some marching 
with the order and discipUne becoming troops, others rush- 
ing bhndly on through the gloom, haunted by the fear of 
pursuit. The British encamped on the field of victory, 
which was thickly strewn with friends and foes. But along 
the slope where Stirling fought the dead lay thickest. 

There is no battle recorded in our history respecting which 
there has been such a diversity of oj)inion as that of Bran- 
dy wine. Washington made no report of it to Congress, 
and without any data but the verbal statements of tliose 
who could give only conjectures, the historian has been 
unable to come to any definite results. The British force 
has been variously estimated at from eleven to seventeen 
thousand. Their loss, as stated by Howe, and universally 
conceded by Sparks and others, was only some six or seven 
hundred, while that of the Americans ranged from one 
thousand to fourteen hundred men. These figures have 
always ajopeared to me incorrect, for several reasons. In 
the first place, it was evident that the two main divisions 
of the enemy averaged but from four to five thousand each, 
so that eleven instead of seventeen or eighteen thousand 
composed their actual force in the field. In the second 
place, their loss seemed wholly at variance with the ac- 
counts of the battle itself. It is generally conceded that 
Maxwell's skirmishing parties killed and wounded three 
hundred out of Knyphausen's division alone, before it 
reached the Brandy wine. That Stirling, who fought like a 
lion, and Greene, with his two gallant brigades, and Wayne, 
who kept up a heavy cannonade for five or six hours, should 
all together have killed and wounded only three hundred 
more, is evidently absurd. Still, following our best authori- 
ties, I have heretofore adopted their statements. But lately 
I have fallen on a document which shows these statements 



258 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

to be wholly erroneous, and makes the facts more consistent 
with reason. It was found among General James Clinton's 
papers, carefully filed away and endorsed by himself On 
the back, in his own hand writing, is inscribed — " Taken 
from the enemy's Ledgers, ivhich fell into the hands of General 
Washington's army at the action of Germantown." 
Within is the following statement : 

State of the British troops and position they were in when they made the attatJi 
at Brandywine, the Wth September, 1777. 
The Upper Ford, under the command of Lt. Lord Cornwallis. 
2d Regiment British Guards, ) j.^^ ^^2 j.yj^^ ^^^ wounded.* 
2d " Light Infantiy,^ 

2d Brigade British Foot, 2240 3G0 " " 

1st Division Hessians, 800 70 " " 

Ferguson's Riflemen, 80 46 " " 

Total, 48e0 1088 " " 

Middle Ford, under the command of Major-General Gray. 
2d Battalion Guards, - 500 

2d " 2d Highlanders, 700 
2d " 70th " 700 

Total, 1900 

Lower Ford, under command of Lt. General Ejijphausen. 
2d Brigade, consisting of the 



4th, 5th,10th, 15th, 23d, 27th, \ 2240 580 killed and wounded. 
28th, 40th, 44th, 55th Reg'ts. 
Hessians to the amount of 
Queen's Rangers, 

Total, 



800 


28 


480 


290 


3520 


898 


1900 




4860 


1088 


10,280 


1986 


1,986 





The whole British force, 10,280 1986 killed and wounded 
1,986 

8,294 

The estimate of the total force which the British had on 
the field, makes the two armies actually engaged about 
equal. The heavy loss here given seems at first sight al- 
most incredible, and puts an entirely different aspect on the 

* Where Lord Stirling's division fought. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 259 

battle. Of the autlienticitj and accuracy of this document 
I think there can be no doubt. In the first place, Genei-al 
Clinton is known to have been one of the most careful and 
accurate men with his papers in the army, and he would 
not have endorsed and filed away a document, the state- 
ments of which were not well authenticated. In the second 
place, the document itself bears the strongest prirria facie 
evidence of its truth. Mere tables of figures without note 
or comment are not apt to be flibrications. The registry as 
given above could be nothing but a plain business paper. 
In the third place, the loss corresponds more with the 
length and severity of the battle, while all the details are 
complete, even to the numbers of the regiments, battalions, 
etc. The division under Gray was not in the battle, and 
hence suffered no loss. The terrible manner in which the 
Queen's Rangers were cut uj3, losing nearly three hundred 
out of four hundred an(3i. eighty, is explained by the foct 
that they were the troops sent against Maxwell in the woods, 
where they received that severe drubbing mentioned in the 
former part of the chapter. It is a little singular that the 
loss of Knyphausen in the woods before reaching the Bran- 
dywine should correspond so completely with the account 
of Maxwell. So of Ferguson's riflemen, more than half, 
according to this statement, were killed or wounded, show- 
ing what we all know to be true, that whenever it came to 
specific warfare, the picking off men in detail, the enemy 
always suffered severely. In the last place, it explains 
Howe's caution after the battle. He was evidently afraid to 
meet Washington in open conflict, and refused again and 
again to accept the battle which the latter endeavored to 
force upon him. The fierce and desperate manner with 
which the Americans fought after they had been com- 
pletely outmanoeuvred — especially the firmness shown by 
the militia against the heavy onsets of the British infantry, 
made him afraid to risk another engagement, unless he had 



2G0 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

clearly the advantage of position. The French officers in 
Stirling's division, with the exception of Deborre, by their 
bravery and exhortations did noble service, and the untrained 
troops were held to the fire with a steadiness that had not 
before been exhibited in the open field. The difference 
between a loss of six hundred and two thousand is certainly 
very great, but it must be remembered that Howe was 
in the heart of the enemy's country, and it was clearly his 
policy, nay, it was necessary to his safety, to make that loss 
appear as inconsiderable as possible. 

Washington has been criticised for fighting this battle, 
but the result instead of j^roving that he erred in judgment, 
seems to me to show that his plans were sound and judicious. 
It certainly never could have entered into any one's calcu- 
lations that an army of five thousand men could march some 
twenty or more miles, and in broad daylight approach within 
two miles of Sullivan, and coolly kalt and eat their dinner, 
without being discovered. 

How Sullivan could have allowed the story of a major, 
as is stated, who declared he had been along the upper fords 
and could see no enemy, to overbalance the official declara- 
tion of lieutenant-colonel Ross, that he was actually follow- 
ing them toward the upper fords of the Brandywine, is 
utterly incomprehensible. I know that he was deficient in 
light-horse with which to scour the country, but after the 
dispatch of Ross, the few roads that led to his flank should 
have been constantly traversed for at least ten miles, even 
if his own staff were compelled to perform the service. 
Encamped in the open field, with a report in his hand stating 
that Cornwallis was far above him, he allowed himself to be 
surprised by a large army with a heavy train of artillery, 
and attacked before he could fairly get in position. Whether 
Sullivan be blameworthy or not, one thing is clear, such 
errors on the part of connnanders of divisions will baffle 








-^if-mf^ ^^ M/fV> 






' 'ii\(\^'/> 







QUAKER LADY DETAINING THE ENGLISH GENERAL. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 263 

the wisest laid plans of a commander-iii-cliief, and make 
every battle a defeat. 

Had the troops fought on a fair field as thc}^ did on this 
ruinous one, Washington would have stopped Howe's ad- 
vance ; and had he acted on the first information and 
crossed the Brandywine and attacked Knyphausen, he would, 
in all probability, have completely ruined him. As it was, 
the gallant manner in which the greater j^art of the army 
behaved, elated him almost as much as a victory would have 
done. Congress also, instead of being disheartened, took 
courage, and immediately dispatched an order to General 
Putnam, in the Highlands, to send on with all possible dis- 
j)atch fifteen hundred continentals, while the militia from 
the surrounding states were summoned to the field. Fore- 
seeing that in all larobability Philadelphia would fall into 
the hands of the enemy, it invested Washington with ex- 
traordinary powers, to be used in case of its absence. He 
was authorized to suspend officers for ill-conduct and ap- 
point new ones, to forage the country for seventy miles 
around for provisions and other articles necessary to the 
army, and remove and secure all goods which might benefit 
the enemy. 

Undaunted by the repulse he had met with at Brandy- 
wine, Washington, who the day after the battle had retreated 
to Germantown, allowed his troops but a single day to rest, 
when he recrossed the Schuylkill, and marched back to meet 
Howe, and give him battle. His troops, though suffering 
from long exposure, without sufficient clothing, a thousand 
of them being barefooted, pressed cheerfully forward. The 
latter had scarcely left Brandywine, when he was told that 
the enemy was seeking him on the very field of his victory. 
Grant and Cornwallis pushed forward in the direction of 
Chester, while Howe, with the main body, advanced toward 
the Lancaster Boad leading to Philadelphia. On arriving 
at Goshen, twenty miles from the city, the lattef was told 



264 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

that Washington was only five miles distant, marching up 
to give him battle. He immediately took position on a 
hill, and in a short time the heads of Washington's columns 
appeared in view. The latter continued steadily to advance, 
directing his course against the left wing of the enemy, and 
soon the sharp firing of the skirmishing parties began to 
ring over the field. It was a dark and sombre afternoon, 
and the overcast heavens every moment grew more threaten- 
ing. Washington knowing what ruinous work a heavy rain 
would make with the ammunition of his troops, cast an 
anxious look at the clouds, but still pressed forward. Offi- 
cers were seen hurrying over the field, the artillery was 
brought forward, and the attacking columns were already in 
motion when the long pent-up clouds opened, and a delage 
of rain descended, flooding the field and drenching both 
armies. It was one of those blinding, pelting rains, to which 
both animals and man succumb, and its effect on the army 
was like the sudden order to halt. The weary troops soaked 
to their skins endeavored in vain to protect their ammunition. 
The water penetrated everywhere. The powder was soon 
wet, and the fire-locks rendered useless. The British army 
was in no better condition, for, without a tent to cover them, 
they had been exposed to the same storm. The rain con- 
tinued all night, and a sorry night it was to the shivering 
army, as it crouched in the open field, supperless and weary. 
In the morning Washington ordered a retreat. He first 
retired to Yellow Springs, and finally recrossed the Schuyl- 
kill, resolved as soon as he could get his arms and ammuni- 
tion in order, again to cross Howe's path, and fall on him 
with his suffering but valorous little army. 

In the meantime, however, he ordered Wayne, with fif- 
teen hundred men, to hang on the skirts of the British, and, 
if possible, cut off their baggage. This officer, making a 
circuitous march, took, on the night of the 20tli, an ex- 
cellent position, two miles from the Paoli Tavern, and three 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 265 

miles from the British encampment. Howe, informed by 
spies of Wayne's proximity, resolved to surprise him. The 
latter, however, received information of the design, and 
though hardly believing the report, doubled his pickets and 
patrols, and ordered his men to sleep on their arms with 
their ammunition beneath their coats. It was a dark and 
rainy night, and every thing remained quiet till about eleven 
o'clock, when the rapid firing of the pickets announced the 
enemy close at hand. Wayne immediately ordered a retreat, 
but, before it could be effected, the British rushed with loud 
shouts upon him, crying, " No quarter." They swept the 
encampment like a whirlwind, chasing Wayne into the dark- 
ness, and strewing the ground with a hundred and fifty men. 
As the attack was expected, its complete success caused 
many to blame Wayne severely. But he declared that the 
disaster was owing to the delay of Colonel Hampton to obey 
his orders to wheel the line and move off, while he covered 
the retreat. Another explanation, and a very probable one 
is, that Wayne thoughtlessly encamped amid his fires, in- 
stead of away from them, thus lighting the enemy to the 
assault, and showing them exactly where to strike. At all 
events it was a bad affair, and rendered still worse by the 
preceding misfortunes. 

Howe, instead of jDushing on to Philadelphia, wdieeled off 
toward Reading, apparently to gain Washington's flank, and 
at the same time destroy the military stores deposited in 
the latter place. Washington immediately moved in the 
same direction. But the whole country so swarmed with 
Tories that he could gain no reliable information of Howe's 
movements till next morning, when he discovered that his 
enemy had turned back again and crossed the fords below. 
A forced march to overtake him was now quite impossible, 
especially with a barefoot army, and Philadelphia fell. 
Congress, in anticipation of the catastrophe, had adjourned 
to Lancaster, whence it removed to Yorktown. The public 



266 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

archives and magazines had been previously secured, and 
the ships at the wharves carried up the Delaware. On the 
26th of September, Lord Cornwallis, in brilliant uniform, 
rode into the city at the head of a detachment of British 
and Hessian grenadiers, welcomed with loud greetings by 
the Tories, and received with congratulations by the disloyal 
Quakers, who remained behind to receive him. 

Three days after this triumphal entry the first battle of 
Stillwater was fought. 

The main part of the British army did not advance into 
the place, but encamped at Germantown, eight miles distant. 
Washington, chafing like a foiled lion, slowly followed after, 
and i^itched his camj) at Skippack Creek, onlj^ fourteen 
miles distant, where he narrowly watched every movement 
of the enemy. In the meantime the British fleet came up 
Delaware Bay with the intention of communicating with 
the land forces around Philadelphia. Anticipating this 
movement, Washington had directed fortifications to be 
built, and obstructions sunk in the channel, the whole de- 
fended by forty galleys and half galle3^s, five rafts, fourteen 
fire-ships, and other vessels. The chief batteries were at 
Mud Bank, a low island, and at Red Bank on the Jersey 
shore, opposite. In order to assist his brother in the at- 
tempt to break through these formidable barriers, Howt> 
sent off* two regiments to attack a fort at Billing's Point. 
Washington, finding the British army thus weakened, while 
his own had been reinforced by the arrival of troops from 
the north, and the Maryland militia, resolved to fall uj^on 
Germantown, and, if possible, carry it by assault. 

The marvelous tenacity with which Washington clung to 
an object that he had set his heart upon, and the energy, 
almost fierceness, with which he pressed toward it, were 
never more strikingly exhibited than in these repeated at- 
tacks on the British army. Chased from the Jerseys, he 
took post .behind the Brandy wine, and though defeated by 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 267 

a blunder which no foresight of his could have guarded 
against, left nearly two thousand of the enemy on the field. 
Giving his tattered, unshod army but one day's rest, he 
boldly turned on his heel, and marched back to assail his 
victorious enemy. Again disappointed and thwarted by the 
interjDOsition of heaven, he was compelled reluctantly to re- 
treat. Still unyielding, he turned hither and thither to meet 
his antagonist and dispute with him for Philadelphia. De- 
ceived and misled by the Tory inhabitants, he was compelled 
to see the object of so much solicitude and toil fall into 
the hands of the enemy, while the fugitive Congress and 
crowds of men and women escaping over the country gave 
additional keenness to the mortification and disappointment 
under which he suffered. Notwithstanding all this, and the 
impoverished state of his army, he now determined with 
his undiscijDlined troops to attack the enemy in his camp, 
and sweep him with one terrible blow into the Schuylkill. 
The British encampment at Germantown lay along the 
Schuylkill, passing directly through the place. The left 
wing, between the town and river, was covered in front by 
the mounted and dismounted chasseurs — the centre, in the 
town, by a regiment and battalion of infantry stationed 
three-quarters of a mile in advance, while the right, ex- 
tending bej^ond the town into the country, was protected 
by the Queen's American Rangers, and a battalion of light 
infantry. This was the position of the British army on the 
night of the 3d of October, and the watch-fires burned 
cheerfully along the lines, and the sentinels walked their 
weary rounds, little dreaming of the storm that was about to 
burst upon them. "Washington's plan was a complicated one 
for a night attack, but if successful at all would be completely 
so, and result not merely in the defeat but utter overthrow, 
and probable capture of the British army. He resolved to 
divide his army into four portions, and entering the town at 
four different points, attack the enemy in front, flank and 



268 LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 

rear, at the same time, and thus throw them into disorder, 
and force them back on the Schuylkill. Greene and Ste- 
phens, with their brigades were selected to attack the British 
right wing, while the Marjdand and Jersey militia, under 
Smallvvood and Foreman, were to take a road nearly parallel 
to the one along which this division moved, a little further 
to the left, so as to fall on the wing in flank. Armstrong, 
with the Pennsylvania militia, was to keep along the river 
shore, attack the British left, and, forcing it back, get to the 
rear ; while Sullivan and Wayne, flanked by Conway's bri- 
gade, and accompanied by Washington in person, should 
move straight on the centre. The plan of attack being 
thus arranged, the columns took up their line of march at 
7 o'clock in the evening, and moved rapidly forward. It 
was a clear, autumnal night, and the dark mass went hurry- 
ing along the highway, now passing open fields, and again 
lost in the deep shadows of the forest, their heavy tread and 
roll of artillery carriages being the only sounds that dis- 
turbed the stillness of the scene The inmates of the farm- 
houses along the road, roused from their slumbers by the 
continuous and muflied tread of the heavy columns, gazed 
forth with alarm as the long array swept past. German- 
town lay fourteen miles distant, and Wasliington hoped to 
make his attack by daylight. But as the head of the 
division rose over Chestnut Hill, that looked down on Ger- 
mantown, day was already broadening in the east. Here 
the columns appointed to attack the centre broke off, and 
began to move to their respective destinations. As Wash- 
ington with his staff rode down the hill the sun rose over 
the eastern horizon, lighting up into momentary beauty the 
quiet valle}^ beneath, while the morning gun of the British 
broke dull and heavy on the ear. In a few minutes a thick 
fog rising from the Schuylkill shut everthing from view, 
and almost at the same moment was heard the firing of Sul- 
livan's advance as it came upon the enemy's picket at Mount 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 269 

Airey. The sudden cry of " to arms," the shrill blast of 
the bugle and roll of drums showed that Washington had 
pounced upon them unawares. The pickets being re- 
inforced, made a stand, till Sullivan, with the main body, 
advancing, drove them back. He then left the road and 
began to cross the fields. But being compelled to fling 
down every fence as he advanced, which also furnished a 
rallying point to the enemy, his progress was slow. 

He, however, kept steadily on, and at length came up 
with the left wing of the enemy, drawn up in order of bat- 
tle, and a close and murderous conflict commenced. Wash- 
ington all this time was moving along the main road with 
the rear of the army. Hearing the heavy firing in advance, 
he knew that Sullivan was warmly engaged. As it con- 
tinued without any cessation, he became anxious, for he 
knew that the troops had only about fifty rounds of ammuni- 
tion, and turning to Colonel Pickering, he exclaimed, " I am 
afraid General Sullivan is throwing away his ammunition ; 
ride forward and tell him to preserve it." Pickering dashed 
ofi" on a gallop, and delivered his message. " Shoulder 
arms,'' passed along the American line — " Forward, march," 
followed, and the whole line, with shouldered pieces, moved 
steadily up to the enemy, who, struck with astonishment, 
recoiled. Wayne, with his division, kept on his terrible 
way, bearing down all opposition. The fog was so thick 
that the opposing lines could not see each other till within 
a few rods, and hence fired at each other's volleys, and 
charged where the last blaze was seen. Wayne, carried 
away by his eagerness and daring, was riding gallantly at 
the head of his column when he was struck in the foot by 
a ball — a second grazed his hand, a third and fourth pierced 
his horse, and he sunk to the earth. Springing to his feet, 
he shouted, " Forward," and sweeping the field before him, 
carried confusion into the whole British army, so that it 
threatened momentarily to break and fly. But Colonel 



270 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Musgrave, commanding the British centre, threw himself 
with a body of men into a large stone building, called Chew's 
house, and having barricaded the lower storj^, opened a de- 
structive fire of musketry from the upper windows. Here, 
while the battle was roaring further and further away in the 
gloom, Washington, with several of his officers, halted to 
consult on the best course to be pursued. 

Grouped together in front of an old stone building that 
loomed dimly through the mist, they let the jDrecious mo- 
ments pass, while they discussed the propriety of pushing 
on without first reducing Chew's house. Knox loudly insist- 
ed on halting the army till the house could be summoned to 
surrender. The younger officers opposed this course as ruin- 
ous. "It is unmilitary," exclaimed Knox, " to leave a castle 
in our rear." " What," replied Hamilton and Reed, "call this 
a castle, and lose the happy moment !" Hamilton and Lee 
and Pickering earnestly, almost fiercely insisted on j^ushing 
rapidly forward. " Leave a regiment here," said they, " to 
take care of them, and this will be all-sufficient." Knox, 
however, whose opinion had great weight with Washing- 
ton, prevailed, and Lieutenant Smith, of Virginia, was sent 
forward with a flag. The enemy paid no attention to it, 
but continued to fire, and Smith, struck down by a musket- 
ball, was borne, mortally wounded, to the rear. A brisk 
cannonade was then opened on the building, but the pieces 
being only six pounders, they could produce no effect. 
Wayne's division, which till this moment had carried every- 
thing before it, hearing the heavy firing in the rear, sup- 
posed very naturally that they had been cut off by the ene- 
my, and immediately fell back. This uncovered Sullivan s 
left, that was pressing on nearly abreast. The British, who 
had begun to look about for a safe retreat, no sooner saw 
themselves relieved from the presence of Wayne's division, 
than they wheeled on the flank of Sullivan's. About this 
time also, the distant firing of Greene, which had been 




■W A a H I X U T O X AND CAPTAIN F R K S T 1 N Q U 1 li I N G F O K THE HESSIAN PICKET 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 273 

very heavy and constant, suddenly ceased, for want of am- 
munition. Being compelled to countermarch his division, 
as he found the enemy so differently posted from what he 
had been told, he was unable to commence his attack till 
long after the appointed time. Armstrong had come in 
sight of the enemy and halted, aiDparently engrossed in 
listening to the tremendous exjDlosions that burst on every 
side from the dense fog. Still a jDortion of Sidlivan's left 
wing kept on through the forsaken encampments, and past 
the deserted tents, driving the enemy for two miles before 
them, and finally drew up within some six hundred yards 
of a large body rapidly forming in a lane, though scarcely 
visible from the dense fog. Colonel Matthews, from Greene's 
division, here got entangled amid the houses, and before he 
could escape was attacked on three sides at once, by three 
times his number., Thus encompassed, he stood and fought 
like a lion, charging at the head of his troops with a des- 
peration and valor that astonished friends and foes, till 
nearly his whole command was killed or wounded, when he 
and a hundred men surrendered themselves prisoners. This, 
together with the flxilure of ammunition, completed the 
disaster — the cry arose on all sides that the enemy was sur- 
rounding them, and the whole army recoiled in disorder to 
Chew's house, and 2)ast it. The assailed at once became 
the assailants, and charging on the broken ranks with loud 
shouts, drove them back over the dead and dying. The 
scene now became one of indescribable confusion. Officers 
galloped around the broken squads, in the vain effort to 
rally them, while Washington, fully aroused to the extent 
of the danger which threatened him, spurred among the 
fugitives, and by his personal daring, and apparently reckless 
exposure of life, held a portion of the troops to the shock. 
His voice sounded over the din of battle, and his form 
glanced like a meteor through the smoke and fog that en- 
veloped the field. Catching a glimpse of him sitting in the 

15 



274 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

very blaze of the enemy's volleys, Sullivan, who had just seen 
two aids fall by his side, forgetful of his own danger, rode 
up to him and begged him not to remain in such an ex- 
posed position, for the salvation of the army and country 
depended on his life. Washington wheeled away for a mo- 
ment, but Sullivan, on looking back again, saw him riding 
as before, where the shot fell thickest. But the day was 
irrevocably lost — defeat had come in the very hour of 
victory, and the shout of triumph died away in the cry of 
fear. Such a sudden reverse, so unexpected an overthrow 
from the very height of success, was almost too much for 
Washington's firmness, and he expressed more chagrin and 
disappointment than at the result of any battle he ever 
fought. Discomfited, weary, though not dispirited, the 
army, weakened in killed, wounded and missing, by neaily 
a thousand men, retreated for twenty miles into the coun- 
try, and finally reached their old camp in safety. When 
the separate divisions compared notes, all felt that they had 
lost a battle already gained — been beaten after they had 
conquered, and were now compelled to report a defeat in- 
stead of a glorious victory. Several valuable officers were 
slain, and among them General Nash. Most of the officers 
behaved nobly — there were, however, some few exceptions, 
and among them General Stephens, who reeled in his saddle 
from drunkenness as he led his men into action. He was 
consequently struck from the army, and his command given 
to Lafayette. Cornwallis, in Philadelphia, eight miles dis- 
tant, Avas startled at an early hour by the arrival of an offi- 
cer, announcing the attack on the camp at German town. 
Summoning a corps of cavalry and the grenadiers, he 
hastened thither. But the battle was over, and the day ot 
his humiliation postponed. 

There has been a vast deal written about this battle, and 
Ihe contradictory accounts growing out of the state of the 
atmosphere, the utter impossibility of one division to 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 275 

judo-e what another was doing, and the various causes that 
in different locahties conspired to produce the same result 
will always involve it in more or less uncertainty. Wash- 
ington ascribes his failure principally to the fog ; another 
to the failure of the ammunition ; a third to the neglect of 
Armstrong, and the delay of the militia under Smallwood 
and Forman on the left, which never came into action at 
all, thus breaking up the unity and efficiency of the com- 
bined movement. All these, doubtless, had their effect. 
Night attacks are alwaj^s subject to many contingencies, es- 
pecially if they are crippled by complicated movements. 
Different points cannot be reached at the specified and de- 
sirable moment. Unexpected obstacles will arise ; delays 
not anticipated become unavoidable, and mistakes not only 
as to positions, but also as to the friendly or hostile charac- 
ter of troops concentrated in the darkness, very probable, 
and the firing in different quarters wrongly interpreted. 
The dense fog made this in reality a night attack, and 
hence subject to all the casualties of one. As a primary 
cause, therefore, not anticipated by Washington, he very 
naturally, and might very truly, regard it the true 
one. Had the morning been clear the result would, 
doubtless, have been different. But it must be remem- 
bered that the very fog which confused the Americans, 
confused still more the enemy. The former knew perfectly 
well what they were about, while the latter were wholly 
ignorant of the number of their assailants, or where the 
weight of the attack was to fall. After going over all the 
different authorities, the great mistake, it seems to me, lay 
in halting at Chew's house. Had the advice of Pickering, 
Lee, Hamilton, and others been taken, and a regiment left 
to occupy those in the building, should they attempt to 
make a sally, all the other casualties would have effected 
nothing in the general result. Howe's army would have 
been destroyed, and this calamity, followed so rapidly by 



27G LIFE OF WASHINGTOiV. 

the capture of Burgojne at Saratoga, finished the war with 
a clap of thunder. 

An unexpected heavy firing in the rear of an army, while 
the commander-in-chief is absent, will always prove disas- 
trous. It was clear as noonday that the inmates of Chew's 
house, finding themselves watched by a regiment with ar- 
tillery, would never have dared to sally forth on the rear of 
a victorious army, and the Battle of Germantown was lost 
by the very conduct which constitutes a martinet. Knox 
was the ori[y general officer in the consultation held upon the 
building, and it was natural that Washington, who had, and 
justly, a high opinion of his military skill, should place 
more confidence in his judgment that in that of his young 
aids. But in battle, rules should never arrest fortune, or be 
used to stem the current of events, when setting favorably. 
Impulse in the heat and excitement of close conflict is often 
wiser than the sagest experience. At all events in this case 
it was applying a general rule where it did not belong, and 
arresting the whole practical action of a battle by a mere 
technicality ; and although Washington attributes the failure 
to Providence, Providence will always be found against such 
bad management as that halt at Chew's house most indubi- 
tably was. Knox and Providence are by no means one 
and the same, and had the opinion of the general been less 
scientific and more practical, the course of Providence would 
have taken a far different, and more satisfactory direction. 
Not that I would intimate that Providence does not overrule 
all our actions and bring about the best results in the end. 
I mean simply to say what no man doubts, tliat blunders, 
bad management, and unwise conduct. Providence generally 
allows to work mischief to those who are guilty of them. 
It is not a difficult matter now, when every thing is under- 
stood, to fix the turning point of the battle, or to locate the 
Dlame, but it is quite another thing to say how great, under 
all the circumstances, that blame was. Finding his entire 



LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 277 

army enshrouded in a dense fog ; knowing by the heavy 
and constant firing that the troops were nearly out of am- 
munition, and fearing to get entangled in a net- work of just 
8uch houses as that of Chew's, Washington may have well 
hesitated about advancing, unless he could make a -clean 
sweep as he went. But so far as the regarding of this single 
house as a fort or castle, it is palpable as noon-dav 
that the junior officers were right, and Knox totally, fatally 
wrong. The whole upper part of the building would 
scarcely hold a regiment, while not a hundred men could 
fire to advantage from it at a time. After the field in front 
had been swept, a flag sent to it would not have been fired 
on, and a valuable officer lost his life. Still, though cha- 
grined, the troops were not dispirited. They had attacked 
the veterans of England, and enjoyed the pleasure of chasing 
them in affright from their own encampment. Neither did 
Congress mourn over the defeat. Almost a victory was 
rather a subject of congratulation, for it gave confidence to 
the troops and lessened their fear of the enemy. The 
British confessed it was the severest handling they had yet 
received, and although Howe, as usual, made his loss but 
trifling, it evidently amounted to about eight hundred men. 
Mr. Sparks thinks that this battle had nearly as much to 
do in fixing the wavering determination of France, respect- 
ing the recognition of our independence, as the capture of 
Burgoj'-ne, remarking that Count De Vergennes said to one 
of our commissioners in Paris, " that nothing struck him 
so much as General Washington attacking and giving battle 
to General Howe's army ; that to bring an army raised 
within a year to this, promised everything." This may 
have had its weight in the French Councils, but such a re- 
mark was doubtless more complimentary than serious, for 
one cannot imagine what an army is raised for, except to 
attack the enemy, and that, too, within less than a year. 



278 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER X. 

Fall of Burgoyne — Sermon of Timothy Dwight — Letter from Washington to 
Howe — Attack on Fort Mercer, and Death of Count Donop — Gallant Defense 
and Fall of Fort Mifflin — Fall of Fort Mercer — March of Howe against Wash- 
ington, and Address of the latter to his Troops — ^The Conway Cabal and Fate 
of the head Conspirators — Valley Forge — Sufferings of the Soldiers — Washing- 
ton at Prayer — Labors of Washington, and Inefficiency of Congress — The Half- 
Pay Establishment — Washington's Answer to the Complaint that he did not 
make a Winter Campaign — News of the Alliance of France — Celebration of it in 
Valley Forge — Baron Steuben and the Effects of his Discipline on the Army — 
Howe resolves to Evacuate Philadelphia — Council of War in American Camp on 
the best course to adopt. 

Four days after tlie failure at Germantown, the second 
battle of Saratoga was fought, and Burgoyne, now com- 
pletely hemmed in, turned, as a last resource, to Sir Henry 
Clinton, who was endeavoring to force his way up the Hud- 
son to his rescue. The latter had succeeded in taking both 
forts Montgomery and Clinton, though bravely defended by 
Generals James, and George Clinton. His effort, however, 
came too late. For six days Burgoyne gloomily bore up 
against the decree which he knew was written against him. 
But his unrelenting foes day by day gathered closer and 
darker around him. They pitched their balls into his un- 
covered camp, and from every height played with their 
artillery on his dispirited columns. Through the hall of 
council, where his officers were moodily assembled, through 
the very apartment where he sat at dinner, cannon balls 
would crash, while all around his camp the steadily increas- 
ing storm gave fearful indications of his overthrow. For 
awhile he turned and turned, like a scorpion girt with fire, 
but his proud, ambitious heart was at last compelled to 
yield, and that splendid army, on which he had fondly 
hoped to build his fame and secure rank and glory, laid 
down its arms. Forty-two brass cannon, five thousand 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 279 

stand of arms, and all the camp equipage, fell into the 
hands of the Americans, and one long, loud shout of triumph 
and of joy rolled through the northern colonies. Gates, in- 
flated by success, for which he had Arnold to thank, refused 
to report his victory to Washington, but sent his dispatch 
to Putnam, at Fishkill, with the request to deliver it to 
Congress. Putnam, overjoyed at the news, spread it through 
the army, and shouts, and the firing of cannon signalized 
the glorious event. Rev. Timothy Dwight, a chaplain in 
the army, preached a sermon at head-quarters, next day, 
from the text, " I will remove far off from you the northern 
army." Never was a sermon so listened to before by the 
officers and troops. Putnam could not refrain from nodding 
and smiling during the discourse at the happy hits with 
which it was filled, and at the close was loud in his praises 
of Mr. I)wight and the sermon, though, to be sure, he said 
there was no such text in the Bible — the chaplain having 
coined it to suit the occasion. When shown the passage, 
he exclaimed, " Well, there is every thing in that book, and 
Dwight knows just where to lay his finger on it." 

Washington, distressed for want of men, had written 
Gates, after the first battle, to send him Morgan's corps, if 
the enemy was retreating. Gates declined, on the ground 
that Burgoyne was still in front. Two days after, the deci- 
sive battle was fought, and yet he retained the troops until 
the terms of the capitulation were settled, and its formali- 
ties gone through with. 

About this time Washington received a letter from Howe, 
in which the latter remonstrated warmly against the destruc- 
tion of several mills, by the American troops, on the ground 
that it inflicted distress on the inhabitants. Washington 
defended his conduct as perfectly consistent with the usages 
of war, and added, " I am happy to find that you express 
so much sensibility to the sufferings of the inhabitants, as it 
gives room to hope that those wanton and unnecessary de- 



280 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

predations which have heretofore, in many instances, marked 
the conduct of yom- army, will be discontinued. The in- 
stances I allude to need not be enumerated ; your own 
memory will suggest them to your imagination, from the 
destruction of Charlestown, in Massachusetts, down to the 
more recent burning of mills, barns, and houses, at the head 
of Elk and in the vicinity of the Schuylkill." No man knew 
better how to deal these severe home thrusts than Wash- 
ington. They were given, however, as a just punishment, 
and did not spring from a revengeful temper, for on the 
very day the flag bore this caustic note, another accompa- 
nied the following civil card : " General Washington's com- 
pliments to General Howe, and does himself the pleasure to 
return to him a dog which accidentally fell into his hands, 
and by the inscription on the collar appears to belong to 
General Howe." 

The two armies lying so near each other, constant skir- 
mishes took place between detached parties, in which great 
skill and bravery were frequently exhibited. It became 
very difficult for Howe to collect forage, and in the partisan 
warflire which the attempt created the British were sure to 
be losers. 

In the meantime, Howe pushed his efforts to clear the 
Delaware below the city, so that the fleet could come up. 
Washington, on the other hand, determined at all hazards 
to prevent it ; for he knew that unless Howe could open his 
communication with the ships he would be compelled to 
evacuate Philadelphia. Forts Mercer and Mifflin, on Red 
and Mud Banks, protected by a fleet of galleys and other 
vessels, under the command of Com. Hazlewood, was the 
only barrier between the British army and their ships, and 
against these Howe immediately directed a large force. 
Col. Christopher Green, with four hundred men from the 
two Rhode Island regiments, garrisoned Fort Mercer, while 
Colonel Smith, with about the same num])er of Maryland 



LIFE OP WASHINaTON. 283 

troops, defended Fort Mifflin. Count Donop, with twelve 
hundred Hessians, was sent against the former, and early in 
the morning of the 2 2d of October, suddenly emerged from 
the woods within cannon shot of the fort. The little garri- 
son was taken by surprise, but not unjDrepared. In a few 
minutes a Hessian officer rode wp with a flag, and ordered 
them to lay down their arms, declaring that if they refused 
no quarter would be given. Enraged at this insolent de- 
mand, Colonel Green replied, '' We ask no quarter, nor will 
we give anj/." With this murderous understanding, the two 
armies prepared for action. Donop immediately ordered a 
battery to be erected, within half gun shot of the fort, and 
notwithstanding the cannonading of the Americans, com- 
pleted it, and at four o'clock opened his fire. He j^hiyed 
furiously on the American works for three-quarters of an 
hour, and then gave orders to move forward to the assault. 
In two columns, one against the north and the other against 
the south side, they moved swiftly and steadily over the 
intervening space. The little band within gazed sternly on 
the overwhelming numbers, bearing down in such beautiful 
array, resolved to die where they stood rather than surren- 
der. The first division, finding the advanced post and out- 
works abandoned, imagined the Americans had left them in 
affi'ight. A loud cheer rang through the ranks, a lively 
march was struck up, and the column moved swiftly forward 
toward the silent redoubt itself, in which not a man could 
be seen. The soldiers were already ascending the ramparts 
to plant upon them the flag of victory, when suddenly every 
embrasure vomited forth fire, while a shower of grape-shot 
from a partially masked battery swept them away with 
frightful rapidity. Stunned and overwhelmed, they broke 
and fled out of the reach of the fire. The troops comprising 
the other column approached the south side of the fort, and 
pressing gallantly on, passed the abattis, crossed the ditch, 
and were pouring over the j)ickets, and mounting even the 



284 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

parapets, when the same deadly fire smote them so terribly 
that they recoiled and fled, leaving their commander mor- 
tally wounded on the field. The next day he died. He 
was only thirty-seven years of age, and just before his death 
exclaimed, " It is finishing a noble career early, but I die 
the victim of my ambition and the avarice of my sove- 
reign."* The loss of the enemy was about four hundred, 
while that of the Americans was but thirty-eight. The first 
cannon shot aimed at Fort Mercer was the signal for the 
British fleet to advance against Fort Mifflin. It was, how 
ever, kept at bay by the American galleys and floating bat- 
teries, and did not make its attack on the fort till next day, 
when the Augusta, of sixty-four guns, the Roebuck, of 
forty-four, two frigates, the Merlin, of eighteen guns, and a 
galley opened a heavy fire on the fort and flotilla. The 
Americans replied with a terrific cannonade, the echoes 
rolling up the Delaware, filling friends and foes with the 
deepest anxiety. But the balls of the Americans crashed 
so incessantly through the ships that the commander at 
length Q-ave the orders to fall down the river out of the 
reach of the fire. A shot had set the Augusta on fire, and 
at noon she blew up with a tremendous explosion. Soon 
after, the Merlin was seen to be in a blaze, and she too blew 
up, when the enemy withdrew. The officers commanding 
both forts were highly complimented by Washington, and 
swords were voted them and Commodore Hazlewood by 
Congress. Though repulsed, Howe did not abandon the 
attempt to force the passage of the river, and thirty vessels 
arriving, not long after, from New York, bringing reinforce- 
ments, he set on foot more extensive preparations. Province 
Island, in rear of Mud Island, was taken possession of, and 
batteries were erected, while a large fleet, the vessels of 
which, drawing but little water, assembled near the forts. 

* Referring to the fact that the troops were hired to England solely to obtain 
money. 



LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 285^ 

Washington, from his camp at Whitemarsh, saw these pre- 
parations with the extremest anxiety. With the fall of these 
forts would be extinguished his last hope of compelling the 
British to evacuate Philadelphia that season. He wished to 
dislodge the enemy on Province Island, but in the attempt 
he would expose himself to an attack in the rear by Howe, 
who had thrown a bridge across the Schuylkill, and could 
easily reach him and cut off his retreat with a vastly supe- 
rior force. Thus fettered, he saw the works go up day by 
day, and the vessels and floating batteries slowly swing to 
their places, and a circle of fire gathering around Fort Mif- 
flin, from which nothing but a miracle could deliver it. In 
the meantime, a heavy rain-storm set in, and the fatigued 
soldiers were compelled, in relieving guard, often to wade 
breast-deep in the water. By the 10th, [Nov.,] a floating 
battery of twenty heavy cannons had been brought, through 
a new channel, to within forty yards of an angle of the fort, 
and four sixty-four, and two forty gun ships to within nine 
hundred yards, while fourteen strong redoubts, protected by 
heavy artillery, covered Province Island. 

Against this formidable array Colonel Smith could muster 
but three hundred men, protected by comparatively few 
batteries. At noon, on the 10th, the cannonading com- 
menced from all the ships and land batteries, at once, and 
it rained shot and shells upon that little fort. But its guns, 
trained by skillful artillerists, spoke sharp and quick amid 
the deafening echoes, and it flamed and thundered over that 
low island, as though a volcano were upheaving it from the 
sea. Before night the commander of the artillery was killed 
by the bursting of a bomb, and the pallisades began to suffer. 
One cannon was also damaged. All night long tlic heavens 
and the waters were illuminated by the blaze of the guns, 
whose sullen reverberations rolled with a bodino; sound over 
the American camp. The cannonading continued all next 
day, slowly grinding the fort to powder. Col. Smith, struck 



286 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

senseless by a brick which a cannon ball hurled against him 
in its passage through a chimney, was, with Capt. George, 
also wounded, carried over to Red Bank. The enemy played 
night and day, without cessation, on the works, to prevent 
the garrison from repairing damages, and on the 1 2th dis- 
mounted two eighteen-j^ounders. The next day the ruin 
of the block-house was complete. Lieutenant Russel suc- 
ceeded Colonel Smith in command, but overcome with 
fatigue, withdrew, and Major Thayer volunteered to take 
his place. A more gallant officer was never inclosed by the 
walls of a fort. Against the hopeless odds that pressed 
him so sorely, with his cannon dismounted one after another, 
.all his outworks demolished, and his garrison thinned off, he 
bore up to the last, refusing to yield while a gun could carry 
shot. The scene around that low fort at night was iude 
scribably grand and fearful. Girdled with fire, and the 
target for so many cannon, canopied with shells bursting 
over and within, it still spoke forth its stern defiance, and 
answered thunder with thunder. On the 13th, the heavy 
floating battery of twenty cannon, anchored within pistol 
shot of the fort, opened with frightful effect, but before noon 
it was knocked to pieces and silenced by the well-directed 
fire of Thayer's artillery. Thus day after day wore on, 
while the garrison, though sick and exhausted, stood bravely 
to their guns. All this time Major Fleury sent daily dis- 
patches to Washington. A mere line or two detailed the 
progress of the enemy. Compelled to sit listless while this 
brave defense was going on, his indignation was aroused 
against Gates and Putnam, for their refusal to send the re- 
inforcements he had demanded, and which might have pre- 
vented the terrible calamities that nothing now seemed able 
to avert. At length a deserter to the British informed the 
commanders, to their astonishment, of the breaking up ot 
the garrison. The attack was about to be abandoned, but 
encouraged hy the report of this deserter, they, at dajdight 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 287 

on the 15th, brought up two frigates to cannonade the fort 
in front, while the Vigilant, cut down so as to draw little 
water, was carried so close to the works that her guns over- 
looked those within. At ten o'clock a signal bugle rung 
out over the water, and the next moment a terrific cannon- 
ade opened. The effect was appalling. The already half- 
destroyed batteries were soon completely demolished, the 
ditches filled with ruins, while the top-men in the rigging 
of the Vigilant picked off the artillerists on the platforms, 
and cast hand grenades into their midst. With only two 
mounted guns, whose echoes could scarcely be heard in the 
surrounding uproar, Tha^^er still kept up a brave defense. 
In a short time these shared the fate of the others, and before 
night every embrasure was in ruins, the paraj)ets all knocked 
away, the artillery company almost to a man killed or dis- 
abled, and the whole fort presenting only a painful wreclv. 
As darkness approached, Thayer sent over to Hed Bank all 
the garrison but forty men. With these he remained till 
midnight, when, seeing that every defense was swept awaj^, 
and the enemy making j^reparations for storming the place 
in the morning, he set fire to the ruins, and by the light ot 
the flames crossed over to Red Bank. Scarcely fifty un- 
wounded men were left of the whole garrison. It was one 
of the most obstinate battles that had yet been fought, and 
stood side by side with Arnold's naval action on Lake 
Champlain, and covered the heroes of it with honor. 

Fort Mercer, at Bed Bank, was still in possession of the 
Americans, and Washington strained every nerve to save 
it. But Green, the commander, and Morgan, whom he sent 
to his relief, were too weak to oppose Cornwallis, rapidly 
approaching it with a heavy force. Colonel Green, despair- 
ing of succor, at length abandoned it, leaving all the artil- 
lery and stores in possession of the enemy. The American 
fleet, no longer protected by the forts, was now inevitably 
lost. Taking advantage of a dark night, some of the galleys, 



288 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and two or three small vessels crept past the batteries at 
Philadelphia, and escaped up the river. The remaining 
portion, seventeen ships in all, were completely hemmed in 
by the enemy. The crews, seeing that escape was impos- 
sible, set them on fire o,t Gloucester and fled. In their 
blazing timbers was consumed the last hope of rescuing Phi- 
ladelphia from the British. The Delaware was now swept 
clear of every battery and vessel, and the enemy could sit 
down in safety in their snug winter quarters. The reinforce- 
ments, so culpably withheld, at length arrived, but too late 
to render aid, and only in time to increase the suffering and 
starvation of the army. 

Howe, elated by his success, and strengthened by re- 
inforcements, resolved to advance against Washington, and 
marched his army within two or three miles of the Ameri- 
can camp. The latter, not doubting that a great and deci- 
sive battle was at hand, reviewed his troops with care, told 
them that the enemy was about to attack them, and ex- 
pressed his confidence that victory would remain with the 
Americans. He praised the patience and valor of those who 
had combated with him at Brandy wine and Germantown, 
and rousing their ambition and pride, told them that now 
was the time to show the conquerors from Saratoga, who 
were to stand by their sides in the approaching conflict, that 
they were their equals in heroism and love of country. He 
addressed the northern troops in language of praise, saying 
that they were about to have another opportunity to add 
fresh laurels to those which they had so gloriously gained. 
He spoke of their common country, and by his impassioned 
manner, earnest appeals, a,nd noble self-devotion, kindled 
every heart with enthusiasm and love, till even the half- 
clad, half- famished, and worn-out soldier panted equally 
with the strongest and freshest for the conflict. But Howe, 
after manoeuvering for three days in front of the American 
lines, concluded not to venture an attack. Having lost more 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 28S 

than a hundred men in the skirmishes* of the detached par- 
ties with Morgan's riflemen, he at length retired to Phila- 
delphia, while Washington, weighed down with care and 
disappointment, led his suffering, starving army through the 
snow to the gloomy encampment of Valley Forge, there to 
make up the most sad and touching chapter in our history. 

It seemed at this time as if Heaven was determined to 
try the American commander, in the sevenfold heated fur- 
nace of affliction, for while struggling against the mortifi- 
tion and disappointment of his continued failures, and against 
the gloomy prospect before him, and actual suffering of his 
destitute army, and compelled to bear the reproaches of men 
in high places for his want of success, he saw a conspiracy 
forming to disgrace him from his command as unequal to its 
duties. What Washin<2;ton suffered during this autumn and 
winter no one will ever know. It was all black around him 
and before him, while, to crown his accumulated afflictions, 
his own officers, with members of Congress, were plotting 
his overthrow. Yet his serenity did not forsake him. Con- 
scious of his own integrity, caring only for his country, the 
injurious comparisons draw^n between him and Gates, the 
falling off of his friends, the disloyalty of the inhabitants, 
and the dreadful trials he knew to be in store for him, could 
not move him to jealousy, or awaken an angry expression, 
or force him to despair. All the shafts which misfortune 
hurled at him fell powerless at his feet. Still he felt for his 
country. Here was his vulnerable point. Her danger and 
sufferings aroused all the terrible and the tender in his 
nature. 

Much has been said of the Conway cabal, and various 
accounts of its origin and progress given. The whole affair, 
however, admits of an easy and natural explanation. A man 
rising, like Washington, to power in troublous times, will 

* Major Morris, fresh from Saratoga, was killed in one of these skirmishes. 



290 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

always make rivals and enemies. There will be one class 
of officers who, having a high opinion of their own merit, 
will resent any refusal to their claims, and become secretly 
embittered. Such were Gates and Mifflin, who never for- 
gave Washington for not granting their requests at Boston, 
the former to have command of a briiz;ade to which he con- 
sidered himself entitled, and the latter that of a regiment. 
There are others, mere ambitious adventurers, who, if foiled 
in their efforts in one quarter, will endeavor to succeed in 
another, and placing their personal aggrandizement before 
every thing else, are ripe for conspiracies, revolutions, or 
any thing that promises to advance their own interests. 
Such was Conway. There is still a third class who measure 
excellence by success, and whose feelings grow cold toward 
a defeated commander. Such were some in the army, and 
some in Congress, and many in the higher walks of social 
life. Then each of these has personal friends more or less 
impressible. Added to all these, there were, in the case of 
Washington, men of influence who, while they had the 
reputation of being patriots, secretly inclined to the loy- 
alists, and would gladly seize the first opportunity to over- 
throw the only man that stood in the way of the submission 
of the colonies. All these classes and characters remain 
quiet so long as they see that the man they assail is too 
strong in popular affection or in power to be attacked with 
safety. But the moment his own misfortunes, or the suc- 
cesses of others, weaken that popularity, and sap that 
strength, they combine against him, and what was before 
mere private complaints and abuse, becomes organized 
action. By this natural process the Conway cabal, doubt- 
less, was formed. Conway was an unscrupulous, dangerous 
man, and had joined the army as a mere adventui-er. 
Although an Englishman by birth, he had lived in France 
since he was six years of age, and seen nmch service in the 
French army. He came to this country with high recom- 




WASHINGTON MIDWAY BETWKEN THE TWO ARMIES AT PRINCETON. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 293 

mendations, and was appointed by Congress brigadier- 
general. Arrogant, boastful, and selfish, lie was especially 
repugnant to Washington, who, with his deejD insight, pene- 
trated the hollow character of the man at once, and would 
never trust him. He, therefore, stood in Conway's way, 
and the latter would naturally seize the first opportunity to 
help remove him. The constant defeats in Pennsylvania, 
during the summer of 1777, gave great weight to his 
opinion against Washington's militarj^ capacity, and it was 
not difficult to win over many members of a Congress so 
contemptible as the one which then ruled our affairs. Still 
there was a great difficulty in taking the initiatory steps. 
If Washington could be displaced, there was no leader suffi- 
ciently popular to secure the confidence and coojoeration of 
the peoj)le and the army. If successful, therefore, in its 
first attempt, the plot would afterward Ml to the ground 
through its own weakness. But the great and decided vic- 
tory of Gates over Burgoyne, linking his name with plaudits 
and honors all over the land, contrasting as it did with 
Washington's successive defeats and helj^less condition, gave 
to the former the very prominence, the want of which had 
hitherto brought every thing to a dead lock. From this 
moment the malcontents grew bold, and the consj^iracy 
strengthened with wonderful rajDidity. Gates, an essen- 
tially weak, vain man, was just the tool to be used in this 
nefixrious scheme. He entertained no more doubt of his. 
superiority to Washington as a military man, than his friends 
appeared to, and would have had no hesitation in accepting 
the chief command. The first thing to be secured was the 
cooperation of a sufficient number of the superior officers. 
Congress was already corrupted to an extent that promised 
success, and the army alone was wanting to take a decided 
step at once. The officers were cautiously sounded, but 
here the conspirators made j^oor progress. The remark 

which Wilkinson droj)ped to Stirling, and which exploded 

16 



294 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the whole scheme, was evidently thrown out as a feeler. 
As if in casual conversation, he remarked that Conway had 
written to Gates, saying — " Heaven has been determined to 
save your country, or a weak general and bad counsellors 
would have ruined it." This brought on a correspondence 
between different parties, and developed, at once, the feel- 
ings of both the army and the people. 

Patrick Henry, Governor of Virginia, received an anony- 
mous letter, which Washington ascribed to Dr. Rush, in 
which, after some flattery, the latter says — " A dreary wil- 
derness is still before us, and unless a Moses or a Joshua 
are raised up in our behalf, we must perish before we reach 
the promised land;" and again, " The spirit of the southern 
army is no way inferior to the northern. A Gates, a Lee, 
or a Conway, would, in a few weeks, render them an irre- 
sistible body of men." This letter Patrick Henry inclosed 
to Washington, accompanying it with his severe condemna- 
tion. Said he, " 1 am sorry there should be one man who 
counts himself my friend, who is not yours." Another 
anonymous paper was sent to Laurens, President of Con- 
gress, filled with accusations against Washington and his 
course. This, Laurens refused to lay before Congress, and 
sent it to Washington, with his condemnation of the writer. 
The latter replied, saying he hoped that the paper would 
be submitted to Congress, that the charges it contained 
might be investigated, and added, '' My enemies take un- 
generous advantage of me. They know the delicacy of my 
situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of the 
defense that I might otherwise make against their insidious 
attacks. They know I cannot combat their insinuations, 
however injurious, without disclosing secrets which it is of 
the utmost moment to conceal. My heart tells me that it 
has been my unremitted aim to do the best that circum- 
stnnces would permit, yet I may have been very often mis- 
taken in my judgment of the means, and may in many 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 295 

instances deserve the imputation of error." Patrick Henry, 
hearing of the part General Mifflin was taking in the con- 
spiracy, wrote again to Washington, to comfort and 
strengthen him. Said he, " While you face the armed ene- 
mies of our country in the field, and, by the favor of God, 
have been kept unhurt, I trust your country will never 
harbor in her bosom the miscreant who would ruin her 
best supporter." Letters from others came pouring in, 
showing what a stern rally his friends would make when 
action became necessary. Conway endeavored to make 
friends with Lafayette by flattery and falsehood, but the 
young patriot penetrated at once, and denounced the vil- 
lainous faction which sought to make him its tool. He 
wrote to Washington a long letter, stating that the con- 
spiracy had involved many in the army, but closed by say- 
ing, " I am hound to your fate, and I shall follow it, and sustain 
it as well hy my sword as by all the means in my power. You 
will pardon my im2)ortunity. Youth and friendship make 
me too warm, bat T feel the greatest concern at recent 
events." Washington replied to this free and full offer of 
his sword and his efforts, in terms of warm affection. He 
had, from the outset, taken him like a son to his bosom, 
and loved him with parental affection to the last. Not- 
withstanding these ominous exhibitions of popular feeling, 
and directly in the teeth of Washington's most earnest, 
solemn, and even prophetic remonstrances, Congress raised 
Conway to the rank of major-general, and made him 
inspector- general of the army. It also created a Board of 
War, invested with large powers, and placed Conway, Mif- 
flin and Gates at the head of it. This board immediately 
planned an expedition to Canada, the command of which 
was offered, as a bribe, to Lafayette. The latter carried the 
offer directly to Washington, telling him he should decline. 
Washington advised him not to do so, as the appointment 
was an honorable one, and would advance his rejDutation 



296 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

He, tnerefore, accepted, and went to Yorktown to meet the 
Board of War. On his arrival, he found General Gates at 
dinner, surrounded by his friends, all of whom received him 
with the warmest expression of friendship. He sat down 
to the table, and the wine passed rapidly around as com- 
2)limentary toasts were given in turn by the guests. Just 
as the company was about to break up, Lafayette remarked 
that, with their permission, ho. would propose a toast. The 
glasses were filled, when, looking steadily at those around him, 
he said, " The Commander-in-chief of the American Armies.^' 
They, by a great effort, succeeded in swallowing the toast, 
but Lafayette never went to Canada. The strength of the 
conspiracy lay in Congress, where it had reached to an 
alarming extent. But of the plots then hatched, and the 
men who then showed themselves to be enemies of Wash- 
ington, we yet remain in ignorance, and perhaps ever shall. 
The record of their deeds is destroyed. In a letter to me, 
a gentleman thoroughly informed on matters of American 
history, says — " It has been said over and over again, and 
by those best able to speak, that the history of our Revolu- 
tion could not be written for many years to come — some 
say never — and, as to some parts of it, I subscribe to the 
latter. The diary of Charles Thompson, Secretary to Con- 
gress, was destroyed. It was more than full, and something 
of its character was known. Colonel North, too, kept a 
full diary, of such a character that not even his own son 
was permitted to see certain parts of it. It too was de- 
stroyed. When success crowned the patriotic struggle, 
those who had faltered and wavered, gladly destroyed the 
evidence of their weakness, while the generosity which filled 
the brave men who never despaired, led them to cover the 
shortcomings of their weaker brethren." There is food for 
much thought in the above paragraph. If Dr. Bush's 
papers could be obtained for publication, they would, doubt- 
less, fling some light on this transaction. But all efforts to 



LIFE OF WASHIXaTON, 297 

get them have thus far proved abortive. After agitating 
the army and the country for awhile, the conspiracy at 
length fell through. Conwav, one of the leaders, was after- 
ward shot in a duel, and, supposing himself to be dying, 
wrote to Washington, " I find myself just able to hold the pen 
during a few minutes, and take this opportunity^ of express- 
ing my sincere grief for having done, written, or said any 
thing disagreeable to your excellency. My career will soon 
be over ; therefore, justice and truth prompt me to declare 
my last sentiments. You are, in my eyes, the great and 
good man. May you long enjoy the love, veneration and 
esteem of those States whose liberties you have asserted by 
your virtues." Gates, the chief leader, shorn of all his 
stolen plumes by his disastrous defeat at Camden — recalled 
in disgrace by the very Congress which had lauded him — 
mortified, humbled and depressed, was compelled at last to 
receive the condolence and sympathy of the man whose 
overthrow he had plotted- Mifflin, the other leading officer, 
did not receive the punishment he deserved, but, on the con- 
trary, was rewarded with honor by his State. Washington 
had remained unmoved amid it all. Calm in the conscious- 
ness of his integrity, indifferent to the power and place he 
occupied, only as he could use them to serve his country, 
upheld by that serene trust in Heaven which he believed 
had ordained the triumph of liberty, he moved steadily for- 
ward in the path of duty and of trial. Like the mountain 
summit, around which the mists of morning gather, only 
to dissolve before the uprisen sun, so he, under the light of 
truth, emerged from the partial obscuration with undimmed 
splendor, and with a cloudless heaven bending above him. 
But the deed deserved a deep reprobation from its cruelty, 
and from the peril in which it brought the country. To add 
to the suffering which Washington already endured, and 
weave a plot designed to effect his ruin around the gloomy 



298 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

encampment at Valley Forge, revealed hearts hard as iron 
to all generous and honorable appeals. 

I have not mentioned as a part of the Conway conspiracy, 
as it is called, the publication of some forged private letters, 
said to have been found in Washington's valise when he fled 
over the Hudson into Jersey, and which contained opinions 
adverse to the independence of the colonies. Writers have 
dwelt with more or less severity on this matter. But the 
attempt was so absurd that I cannot conceive that it could 
have formed a part of the scheme itself. It must have been 
the private enterprise of some very weak-headed or ignorant 
man. That an anonymous publication could weigh a feather 
against Washington's public acts and sacrifices, was an ex- 
pectation too jDreposterous to be entertained by any sensible 
persons. Washington, at the time, did not even take the 
trouble to deny it. 

Valley Forge ! What thoughts and emotions are awakened 
at the mention of that name. Sympathy and admiration, 
pity and love, tears and smiles chase each other in rapid 
succession, as one in imagination goes over the history of 
that wintry encampment. Never before w^as there such an 
exhibition of the triumph of patriotism over neglect and 
want ; of princijDle over physical sufferings ; of virtue over 
the pangs of starvation. Those tattered, half-clad, and 
bare-foot soldiers, wan with want, taking up their slow 
march for the wintry forest, leaving their bloody testimo- 
nials on every foot of the frozen ground they traversed, 
furnish one of the sublimest scenes in history. A cloud, 
black as sackcloth, seems to hang over their fortunes, but 
through it shoots rays of dazzling brightness. A murmur, 
like the first cadences of a death-song, heralds their march, 
but there is an undertone of strange meaning and sublime 
power, for no outward darkness can quench the light of a 
great soul, no moans of suffering drown the language of 
a lofty purpose. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. ^ 299 

The encampment at Valley Forge was chosen after much 
deliberation, and frequent consultations among the officers. 
Various propositions were made, but to each and all there 
were many and grave objections. Of course, the first and 
natural wish was to keep the army in the field ; but with 
such naked troojDS this would be impossible, and every feel- 
ing of humanity in Washington revolted from making the 
attempt. But how and where to quarter them seemed 
equally difficult. It was proposed to retire to the towns in 
the interior of the state ; but to this there was the two-fold 
objection — that of inflicting the same destitution and suffer- 
ing on the inhabitants, and of leaving a large extent of 
country unprotected, with forage and stores in possession 
of the enemy. To distribute the troops in different sections 
would render them liable to be cut off" in detail. Washing- 
ton, therefore, determined to take to the woods, near his 
enemy, and there hut, so that he could both protect the 
country and his stores, and also be in striking distance in 
case of need. 

The army commenced its march on the 11th of Decem- 
ber, but did not reach the place selected for the encampment 
till the 19th. In his order of the day, dated December 17th, 
Washington informed the troops of his decision, and the 
reasons which urged him to it. He also praised their good 
conduct during the tedious campaign now closed, declared 
that it furnished evidence that their cause would finally 
triumph, even if the colonies were left alone in the struggle, 
but added that there was every reason to believe that France 
would soon ally herself openly against England. He pro- 
mised to share in the hardships, and jaartake of every incon- 
venience. The next day had been appointed by Congress 
as a day of thanksgiving and praise. The army, therefore, 
remained quiet in their quarters, and divine service was held 
in the " several corps and brigades," by the chaplains, and 
hymns of praise and the voice of prayer arose there on the 



300 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

confines of the bleak forest, from men who, to all human 
appearance, had little to be thankful for, except nakedness, 
famine, and frost. The next day the work of hutting com- 
menced. Each regiment was divided into parties of twelve, 
each party to make its own hut, which was to be of logs, 
fourteen by sixteen feet on the ground, and six feet and a 
half high. The sides were to be made tight with clay, and 
the roof with split slabs, or such material as could be ob- 
tained. To stimulate the parties to greater exertion, Wash- 
ington offered a reward of one dollar to each man of that party 
which finished its hut in the shortest time and most work- 
manlike manner. Fearing that there would not be slabs or 
boards sufficient for roofing, he offered a reward, also, of a 
hundred dollars to any one who should " substitute some 
other covering," that might be more cheaj)ly and quickly 
made. In a short time the arms were all stacked, and with 
their axes and other tools in their hands, this army of eleven 
thousand men, with the excejDtion of about three thousand 
who were unfit for duty, was scattered through the woods 
The scene they presented was strange and i^icturesque. 
There was not a murmur or complaint, and with laugh, and 
song, and loud hallo, they went about their allotted toil. 
The forest soon rung with the strokes of the axe, and the 
rapid and incessant crash of falling trees resounded along 
the shores of the Schuylkill. Little clearings were rapidly 
made, the foundations of huts laid, and a vast settlement 
began to spring up along the valley and slopes of the hills. 
But here and there were scattered groups of fifties and hun- 
dreds, sitting around huge fires, some of them with scarcely 
a rag to cover their nakedness, crouching closely to the 
crackling logs to escape the piercing December blast ; others 
sick and emaciated, gazing listlessly on the flames, their 
sunken and sallow visages clearly foretelling what would 
be their fate before the winter now setting in was over. In 
another direction were seen men harnessed together like 



iiiSSiiii 




L n ^Tave d"IjyAIj IValtje:- 



'RtVIOUS TO HIS OF.PARTI.S'T - IH AMERICA 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 303 

beasts of burden, and drawing logs to the place of destina- 
tion. Washington's tent was j)itched on the brow of a 
hill overlooking this strange spectacle. One after another 
the rude structures went up, till a log city, containing be- 
tween one and two thousand dwellings, stood in the clear- 
ings that had been made. Over the ground floor straw was 
scattered, and into these the " Sons of Liberty," as Colonel 
Barre had christened them, in the English Parliament, crept 
to starve and to die. The officer's huts were ranged in lines 
in the rear of those of the soldiers, one being allowed to 
each of all those who bore commissions, the whole being 
surrounded with intrenchments. But scarcely had the troops 
got into these comfortless houses, when there began to be a 
want of food in camp. Congress, with that infallible cer- 
tainty of doing the wrong thing, had recently, against 
Washington's advice, made a change in the quarter-master's 
and commissary's department, by which, in this critical 
juncture, the army was left without provisions. In the mean- 
time, news came that a large party of the enemy w\as ad- 
vancing in the country to forage. Washington immediately 
ordered the troops to be in readiness to march, when, to his 
surprise, he found that they were wholly unable to stir, for 
want of food, and that a dangerous mutiny had broken out. 
The soldiers were willing to suffer or die, if necessary, but 
they would not submit to the neglect and indifference of 
Congress, which they knew could easily relieve their wants. 
The statements made by the different officers were of the 
most alarming kind. General Huntingdon wrote a note to 
Washington, saying that his brigade was out of provisions, 
but he held it in readiness to march, as '' fighting luas far 
preferable to starving." General Varnum wrote, also, saying 
that his division had been two days without meat, and three 
days without bread, and that the men must be suj^plied, or 
they could not be commanded ; still they were ready to 
march, as any change was better than slow starvation. On 



304 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

inquiry there was found only one purchasing commissary in 
camp, and he made the frightful report of not a " single 
Jioof of any kind to slaughter, and not more than twenty-five 
barrels of flour" to the whole army. Only small detach- 
ments, therefore, could be sent out. These hovered about 
the enemy, now bursting on a small party from some forest, 
and again surrounding the dwelling where they were repos- 
ing. The weather came on intensely cold, and the soldiers 
could hardly handle their muskets Avith their stiffened 
fingers. They rarely entered a house, and dared not kindle 
a fire at night, lest it should reveal their position to the 
enemy. 

Thus, for a week, they kept marching and skirmishing, 
till the enemy withdrew to Philadelphia, when they returned 
to camp, having collected but little forage. Here suffering 
and want were fast bringing things to a crisis. The soldiers 
were at first satisfied with the excuse given for the delay of 
provisions, viz : that the rains had made the roads almost 
impassable. But day after day passing without relief, they 
began to complain, and soon their murmurs swelled to loud 
clamors and threats. First the different regiments began 
to assemble, and the excitement increasing, whole brigades 
and divisions gathered together without order, and against 
the commands of their officers. The latter did not attempt 
to enforce obedience, but spoke kindly to them, saying that 
Washington was aware of their suffering condition, that it 
grie\'ed him to the heart, and he was straining every nerve 
to obtain relief. Washington himself exhorted them to be 
obedient, saying that provisions would soon be in camp, and 
insubordination could result only in evil. The soldiers, in 
return, were calm and respectful. They told him they 
knew that their conduct was mutinous, but their condition 
justified it. They were actually starving, and relief must 
be had. They then res^^ectfully communicated to him their 
fixed determination, which Avas to march in an orderly man- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 305 

ner into th.'e country, -seize provisions wherever they could 
lay hands on them, giving in return certificates as to the 
amount and value of the articles taken, and then return to 
camp, and to their duty. Never before was there a mutiny 
so devoid of crime, and which, in fact, partook of the moral 
sublime. Their language was, " We are starving here, and 
shall soon be of no service to you or our country. We love 
you, and the cause in which we are embarked. We will 
stand by you at all hazards, and defend with our last droji 
of blood our common country, but food we must and will 
have." Washington was overcome by the condition and 
conduct of these men. So self-sustained in their sufferings — 
so constant to him in their destitution — so firm for their 
country, though abandoned by Congress, their language and 
attitude moved him deeply. There was something inex- 
pressibly touching in the noble regret they manifested for 
appearing to be disobedient, and the high, manlj^ grounds in 
which they defended their conduct. Washington, in reply, 
told them that he was well aware of the sufferings of his 
faithful soldiers. He had long admired their j^citience and 
resignation, and devotion to their country, under the most 
trying circumstances, and if the provisions did not arrive by 
a specified hour, he would place himself at their head, and 
march into the country till they were found. To *this they 
consented, but the promised supplies arriving before the 
time fixed had expired, quietness and subordination were 
restored, and a movement, the results of which could not 
be foreseen, prevented. 

This supply, however, was soon exhausted, and then the 
same scenes of suffering were repeated. Nearly all the 
inhabitants in the vicinity of Yalley Forge were Tories, and 
hence withheld the food they could have furnished. Find- 
ing that neither offers of pay nor threats could wring it from 
them, Washington, acting under a resolution of Congress, 
issued a proclamation in which he ordered all the flirmers 



306 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

withiji seventy miles of Valley Forge, to thresh out half 
their grain by the first of February, and the other half by 
the first of March, under penalty of having the whole 
seized as straw. The Tories refused to comply, and many 
of them defended their barns and stacks with fire-arms. 
Some, unable to do this, set fire to their grain, to pre\nent 
its falling into the hands of the Americans. The soldiers 
turned themselves into pack-horses, yoked themselves to 
wagons, and shrunk from no labor required to bring in pro- 
visions. But all the efforts and ingenuity of Washington 
could not prevent the gaunt figure of famine from stalking 
through his camp. Horses died for want of forage, and the 
men became so reduced that scarcely enough could be found 
fit " to discharge the military camj) duties from day to 
day;" and even these few were compelled to borrow clothes 
to cover their nakedness while performing them. 

A Aveek passed without a pound of flesh being brought 
into camp, and at last the bread gave out, and for several 
days the starving soldiers had not a morsel to eat. Heavy 
snow-storms, followed by excessive frosts, swelled the suf- 
ferings that before seemed unbearable. So few blankets 
had been supplied that the benumbed soldiers were com- 
pelled to sleep sitting around their fires, to prevent freezing. 
Many were so naked that they could not show themselves 
outside of their huts, but hid shivering away in the scanty 
straw. Others would flit from hut to hut, with only a loose 
blanket to cover their otherwise naked forms. These huts, 
half closed up with snow, and the men wading around in 
their rags to beat paths, presented a singular siocctacle of a 
bright wintry morning. In the midst of this accumulation 
of woes, the small-pox broke out, and Washington was com- 
pelled to resort to inoculation to prevent the severer ravages 
of the disease. The sick, in consequence, were everj^where, 
and without blankets or provisions and hospital stores, and 
stretched on the earth wet and frosty, l>y turns, presented 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 807 

a scene of woe and wretchedness that beggars description. 
Starvation and despair will in the end demoralize the noblest 
army that ever defended a holy cause, and they at length 
began to tell on this band of patriots. A foreign officer, in 
walking through the encampment one day with Washington, 
heard through the crevices of the huts as he passed, half- 
naked men muttering, " no pay, no clothes, no rum.'' Then 
he said he despaired of American Liberty. Had Howe been 
made aware of this deplorable state of the army, he could 
have with a single blow crushed it to atoms. Amid this 
woe and suffering, Washington moved with a calm mien but 
a breaking heart. The piteous looks and haggard appear- 
ance of his poor soldiers — the consciousness that his army 
was jDowerless to resent any attack of the enemy, nay, on 
the jDoint of dissolution, never probably to be reunited, all 
combined to press him so heavily with care, that even he 
must have sunk under it had he not put his trust in a higher 
power than man. One day a Quaker, by the name of Potts, 
was strolling up a creek, when he heard, in a secluded spot, 
the solemn voice of some one apparently engaged in jDrayer. 
Stealing quietly forward, he saw Washington's horse tied to 
a sapling, and a little farther on, in a thicket, the chief 
himself, on his knees, and with tears streaming down his 
cheeks, beseeching Heaven for his country and his army. 
Before God alone, that strong heart gave way, and poured 
forth the full tide of its griefs and anxieties. Though the 
heavens grew dark around him, and disaster after disaster 
wrecked his brightest hopes, and despair settled down on 
officers and men, he showed the same unalterable presence — 
moved the same tower of strength. But to his God he could 
safely go with his troubles, and on that arm securely lean. 
How sublime does he appear, and how good and holy the 
cause he was engaged in seems, as he thus carries it to the 
throne of a just God, feeling . that it has his sanction and 
can claim his protection. 



303 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

The poor man who had witnessed this sj)ectacle hurried 
home, and on oi^ening the door of his house burst into tears. 
His wife, amazed, inquired what was the matter with him. 
He told her what he had seen, and added, " If there is any- 
one on this earth whom the Lord will listen to, it is George 
Washington, and I feel a presentiment that under such a 
commander, there can be no doubt of our eventually estab- 
lishing our independence, and that God in his providence 
has willed it so." 

No wonder peace sat enthroned on that brow when despair 
clouded all others. 

In February his wife joined him, and as the two walked 
through the wretched camp, even the half-starved and muti- 
nous soldier raised his head to bless them, and from many a 
pallid lip fell the " long live Washington," as his tall form 
darkened the door of the hovel. She was worthy of him, 
and cheerfulty shared his discomforts and anxieties. Hav- 
ing at length got a little addition, built of logs, attached to 
their quarters, as a dining-room, she writes that their strait- 
ened quarters were much more tolerable. 

But the sick, powerless, and famished army that lay 
around him did not wholly occupy Washington's attention. 
He wrote to the various officers to the east and north, took 
measures to have West Point fortified, and pressed on Con- 
gress the necessity of a complete change in the organization 
and discipline of the army, and the mode of obtaining sup- 
plies. This body at length yielded to his solicitations, and 
a committee of five was appointed to wait on him at Valley 
Forge, to decide on some feasible plan. Washington laid 
before them a project, which, after receiving the various 
opinions of the officers, he had, with great labor and care, 
drawn up. The committee remained three months in camp, 
and then returned to Congress with a report, which, with a 
very few amendments was adopted. On one point he and 
Congress differed Avidcly. Hitherto, the officers received 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 309 

pay only while in the service, and no provision was made 
for them in the futnre. Washington wished to have the 
half-pay system for life adopted, and finding Congress averse 
to it, he wrote a strong and urgent request, m which he 
declared that he " most religiously believed the salvation of 
the cause depended upon it, and without it, the officers would 
moulder to nothing, or be composed of low and illiterate 
men, void of capacity, and unfit for their business." He said 
he had no interest in the decision, personally, as he had 
fully resolved never to receive the smallest benefit from the 
half-pay establishment ; but he added, " As a man who fights 
under the weight of proscription, and as a citizen who luishes to 
see the liberty of his country established on a permanent basis, 
and whose property depends on the success of our arms, I am- 
deeply interested." Still Congress hesitated, doubtful whether 
this matter did not belong to the separate States. Some 
saw in it the basis of a standing army ; others the elements 
of a privileged class ; indeed, saw every thing but the simple 
truth, that officers will not sacrifice all their interests, and 
run the hazards of war for a country which will not even 
promise after her indejDendence is secured to provide for 
their support. Deeply impressed with the necessity and 
importance of this measure, Washington wrote again to a 
member of Congress, declaring " that if it was not adopted 
he believed the army would disband, and even if it should 
not, it would be without discipline, without energy, incapable 
of acting with vigor, and destitute of those cements neces- 
sary to promise success on the one hand, or to withstand 
the shocks of adversity on the other." He said, " Men may 
speculate as much as they will ; they may talk of patriotism, 
they may draw a few examples, from ancient story, of great 
achievements performed by its influence, but whoever builds 
upon them as a sufficient basis for conducting a long and 

bloody war, will find himself deceived in the end 

I do not mean to exclude altogether the idea of patriotism. 



310 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

I know it exists, and I know it has done much in the pre- 
sent contest. But I will venture to assert that a great and 
lasting war can never be supported on this principle alone." 
He might have added that officers and men felt that if they 
owed the State obedience, the State in turn owed them pro- 
tection ; or that if they risked life and fortune in the defense 
of their country, she, when delivered, owed them some pro- 
vision against want. It is hard to fight for a country tliat 
degrades our efforts to the mere duties of a hireling. 
Patriotism, like love for a fellow being, must have regard 
in return or it will soon die out. Urged by Washington's 
appeals, Congress at length passed the half-pay bill, but 
shortly after reconsidered it, and finally compromised the 
matter by allowing the officers half-pay for seven years, and 
granting a gratuity of eighty dollars to each non-commis- 
sioned officer and soldier who should serve to the end of the 
war. Thus, while struggling with the difficulties that beset 
him in camp, he was compelled to plead with a suspicious, 
feeble Congress, and submit to its implied imputations. The 
course it was taking he saw clearly would lead to mischief. 
Its openly avowed suspicions of the army, he declared, was 
just the way to make it dangerous. " The most certain 
way (said he) to make a man your enemy, is to tell him 
you esteem him such." Besides, the conduct of the army 
did not warrant this jealousy. From first to last, it had 
shown an example of obedience to the civil authorities, 
worthy of the highest commendation, not of distrust. 
"Washington boldly asserted that history could not furnish 
another instance of an army " suffering such uncommon 
hardships, and bearing them with the same patience and 
fortitude. To see men (said he) without clothes to cover 
their nakedness, without blankets to lie on, without shoes, 
for the want of which their marches might be traced hy the 
blood from their feet — and almost as often without provi- 
sions as with them, marching through the frost and snow, 




CO UNT K V M KN- JOIXING TUK ARMY UNDER G\TK.S. 



. > 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 313 

and at Christmas taking up their winter-quarters within a 
day's march of the enemy, without a house or hut to cover 
them till they could be built, and submitting without a 
murmur, is a proof of patience and obedience which, in my 
opinion, can scarce be jmralleled." No, it could not be 
paralleled, and yet the greater the devotion and sufferings 
of the army, the more neglectful, suspicious and hostile 
Congress became. Its noble conduct demanded gratitude 
and confidence, but received instead distrust and injury. 
Thus, while exerting all his powers to protect and keep to- 
gether the army, he had to devise and propose every im- 
portant military measure, and then, at last, see many of his 
plans fail through party spirit, and others so altered as to 
lose half their value. It was under these accumulations of 
evils the Conway cabal came to a head, and Washington saw 
his own officers conspiring togetlier to effect his overthrow. 
This was the darkest hour of his life, for not only misfor- 
tunes, but things far more w^ounding to him than any 
misfortune, were crowding him to the furthest limit of 
endurance. 

Thus passed the long, severe and gloomy winter, but 
spring at last with its balmy breath arrived, and was hailed 
with delight by the suffering trooj)S. Unjust and incon- 
sistent as it may seem, there were many in Congress and 
out of it who blamed Washington for not carrying on a 
winter campaign. Of these members of Congress he spoke 
in bitter sarcasm, declaring that they at first denied the 
soldiers clothes, and then wanted them to keep the field in 
winter. " I can assure these gentlemen," said he, " that 
it is a much easier and less distressing thing to draw remon- 
strances in a comfortable room, by a good fire-side, than to 
occupy a cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, 
without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem 
to have little feeling for the naked, distressed soldiers, I feel 

superabundantly for them, and from my soul I pity those: 

17 



3U LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

miseries which it is neither in my power to relieve nor pre- 
vent." His indignation and scorn are moved at the inhu- 
manity of such complaints, but they both yield to pity as 
he contemplates the condition of his soldiers. But not- 
withstanding the conspiracies surrounding him, the disaffec- 
tion of some of his best officers, and the conduct of Congress, 
and the state of his troops, he did not waver a moment in 
his course. And when, in the middle of April, he received 
a draft of Lord North's conciliatory bills, as they were 
called, containing a new project for settling the difficulties 
between the two countries, all his solicitude was aroused at 
once, lest the favorable terms offered might be accepted, or 
at least urged by men tired of the war, and despairing of 
success. He immediately wrote to a member of Congress, 
saying, " Nothing short of Independence, it appears to me, 
can possibly do. A peace on any other terms would be, if 
I may be allowed the expression, a peace of war." He ex- 
pressed his views in full, in which, fortunately. Congress 
coincided, and the three commissioners sent over by the 
British government, Lord Carlisle, Governor Johnstone and 
William Eden, after vainly striving for three months to 
make arrangements with Congress, returned. Previous to 
their departure, however, they attempted to send circulars 
to each of the States, showing the terms of reconciliation 
which had been rejected, and threatening those who con- 
tinued their rebellious attitudes with the vengeance of the 
king. 

Another event soon after occurred, which shed sudden 
sunshine on the gloomy encampment of Valley Forge, and 
made its rude hovels ring with acclamations of joy. The 
overthrow of Burgoyne had fixed the wavering attitude of 
France, and on the 6th of February a treaty of defensive 
alliance, as well as of amity and commerce, was signed on 
her part, by Geraud, and on ours by the American commis- 
sioners, Franklin, Duane, and Lee. The bearer of these 



LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 315 

glad tidings arrived the last of April, and bonfires, illumi- 
nations, the firing of cannon and ringing of bells announced 
the joy Avith which it was received by the people. The 
army was wild with excitement, and the bright May morn- 
ing that dawned over the huts at Valley Forge did not more 
certainly promise a coming summer than did this alliance 
with one of the strongest powers on the globe assure our 
success. Washington set apart the 7th of May to celebrate 
this important event in form. At nine in the morning, 
the troops were all assembled to hear divine service and 
offer up their thanksgiving. A signal-gun, fired at half- 
past ten, summoned the men to the field. At half-past 
eleven, another signal-gun was fired, and the columns 
began their march. At a third signal, a running fire of 
musketry went down the first line and back the second. A 
moment's silence followed, when at a given signal a loud 
shout went up, and " Long live the King of France/' rolled 
like thunder over the field. Before the echo had died away, 
the artillery broke in, shaking the earth with its deep rever- 
berations, and sending its sullen roar of joy far over the 
Bpring-clad hills and valleys. After thirteen rounds, it 
ceased, and the loud rattle of musketry succeeded, and then 
the deepening shout of " Long live the friendly European 
powers," again arose from the whole army. As a finale, 
thirteen cannon were fired, followed by a discharge of mus- 
ketry and a loud huzza to " The American States." All the 
officers of the army then assembled to partake of a collation 
provided by "Washington, and for once, plenty reigned in 
the camp. When he took his leave, the officers arose and 
began to huzza and shout " Long live Washington.'* They 
kept it up till he and his suite had gone a quarter of a mile. 
The latter, his heart swelling with joy and gratitude at the 
bright prospect so suddenly opened before his country, and 
his fiice lit up at the enthusiasm manifested on every side, 
would often turn, and swinging his hat above his head, echo 



316 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

back the wild huzza. The uproar would then be redoubled 
— hats flew into the air, and " AVashington, long live Wasli- 
ington," was echoed and re-echoed over the field, and taken 
up by the array till the whole atmosphere seemed an element 
of joy. 

The troops at this time presented a very different appear- 
ance than when they went into winter-quarters. Better 
clad, they had with the opening of spring been subject to 
constant and severe discipline, by Baron Steuben, who had 
joined the army during the winter. This generous stranger 
had been aid to Frederic the Great, and was afterward 
made grand-marshal of the court of Prince Hohenzollern- 
Hechingen. The King of Sardinia, anxious to obtain his 
services, had made him flattering offers to enter his army, 
but the baron was well settled, with ample means, and re- 
fused to accept them. In 1777, he passed though France, 
on his way to England, to visit some English noblemen. 
Count Germain, the French minister of war, was an old 
companion-in-arms of Steuben, and he immediately began 
to press the latter to enter the American service. The 
wary French minister knew that our weakness lay in our 
want of discipline, and ignorance of military tactics, and 
tliat there could be no one found better fitted to render ua 
aid in this department than he. For a long time Steuben 
steadily refused, but the indefatigable Germain finally over- 
came all his scruples, and he embarked for this country, 
where he arrived on the 1st of December [1777]. Con- 
gress received him with distinction, and at his own request, 
he joined the army at Valley Forge, as a volunteer. Hia 
astonishment at its aspect was unbounded. Such a famished, 
half-naked, miserable collection of human beings he never 
befoie saw dignified with the title of soldiers, and he de- 
clared that no European army could be kept together a 
week under such privations and sufferings. His amazement 
at the condition of the army gave way to pity and respect 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 317 

for men who, for a principle, would endure so much. As 
soon as spring opened he commenced, as inspector- general, 
to which office he had been appointed by Congress, to drill 
the men. Ignorance of our language crippled him sadly at 
first, but undiscouraged, he threw his whole soul into his 
work, determined that such noble patriots should also be- 
come good soldiers. Though choleric and impetuous, he 
was generous as the day, and possessed a heart full of the 
tenderest sympathy. The men, notwithstanding his tem- 
pestuous moods, soon learned to love him. The good effects 
of his instructions were quickly apparent, and now, when 
Washington was about to open the summer campaign, he 
saw with pride an army before him that could be wielded, 
and that had confidence in its own skill. Still it was small, 
and recruits came in slowly. The committee sent by Con- 
gress to Valley Forge, to confer with Washington, agreed 
that the whole force in the field should be forty thousand 
men, exclusive of artillery and cavalry ; but when, the next 
day after the grand celebration of the alliance with France, 
a council of war was called, it appeared that there were, in- 
cluding the detachments in the Highlands, only fifteen 
thousand troops, and no prospect of increasing the total 
number to more than twenty thousand. At Valley Forge 
were eleven thousand eight hundred, while nineteen thousand 
five hundred British occupied PhiladeljDhia, and ten thousand 
four hundred more New York, not to mention between three 
and four thousand in Rhode Island. Over thirty-three thou- 
sand British soldiers were on American soil ; a force which 
Congress had nothing adequate to oppose. In this council 
it was resolved almost unanimously that it would be unwise, 
under the circumstances, to commence offensive operations. 
The army, therefore, remained quiet. Meanwhile, Howe 
begpii to make preparations for evacuating Philadelphia. 



318 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Lafayette at Barren Hill — The Oath of Allegiance taken by the Officers — Strange 
Conduct of Lee — Evacuation of Philadelphia — Determination of Washington — • 
Battle of Monmouth and Conduct of Lee — Arrival of the French Fleet — Attack 
on New York planned — Failure of the Attempt against Nevrport, and Displea- 
sure of the French Commander — Massacre of Baylor's Dragoons and American 
Troops at Egg Harbor — Destitute Condition of the Army, and Opinions of Wash- 
ington as to the Result of it — The Army in Winter-quarters — Miserable Condi- 
tion of Congress — Sickness of Lafayette — Washington Consults with Congress 
on the Plan of the Summer Campaign — Resolves to act solely against the Indians 
— Sullivan's Expedition — Taking of Stony and Verplanck's Points — Governor 
Tryon's Foray — Successful Attack of Wayne on Stony Point — Wretched state 
of the Currency — Washington's Indignation against Speculators — Count Vcrgen- 
nes' Views of Washington — Suffering of the Troops in Winter-quarters at Mor- 
ristown— The Life Guard — Death of the Spanish Agent — Washington partakes 
of the Communion in a Presbyterian Church — National Bankruptcy threatened 
— Arrival of Lafayette with the News of a large French Force having SaHed — 
Noble Conduct of the Ladies of Philadelphia, and of Robert Morris, in Supply- 
ing the Soldiers with Clothing. 

There was much truth in the reply of Dr. Franklin, when 
told in London that Howe had taken Philadelphia, *' Say, 
rather, that Philadelphia has taken General Howe." He 
had lost more than three thousand men in the attempt to 
reach the city, and having accomplished nothing toward the 
real conquest of the country, was now about to march back 
again. He had, in fact, been to this amazing expense, loss 
of soldiers, and labor, to get into quarters which he could 
have obtained quite as well in New York. 

In the meantime, Washington, in order to restrain the 
depredations of the British foraging parties, which were of 
almost daily occurrence, and to watch more narrowly tho 
movements of Howe, sent forward Lafayette, with abe ,t 
two thousand men, who took post on Barren Hill, nim )r 
ten miles from Valley Forge. This hill was across he 
Schuylkill, and furnished an advantageous position. A 3 jry 
Quaker, however, at whose house Lafayette had at first ta ien 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 319 

up his head-quarters, informed Howe of the state of affairs, 
who immediately sent out five thousand troops to seize hini. 
The plan was to pass along the banks of the Schuylkill, 
between Lafayette and the river, and while two detachments 
held the only two fords he could cross in his retreat to camp, 
a third, constituting the main body, should advance to the 
attack. This plan was well laid, and promised complete 
success. Lafiiyette was taken by surprise, and nearly sur- 
rounded before he was aware of the presence of the enemy. 
Only one ford lay open to him, and the column advancing 
to occupy it was nearer to it than he. Yet it was his last 
desperate resource. The road he took ran behind a forest, 
and was invisible to the enemy. Along this he hurried his 
troops, while, at the same time, he sent across the interval 
between him and the enemy heads of columns, which, 
showing themselves through the woods, deceived Grant, the 
British commander, and he ordered a halt and prepared for 
an attack. This produced a delay which enabled Lafiiyette 
to reach the ford first, and cross it in safety, while lii.^ baf- 
fled pursuers returned, chagrined and mortified, to Phila- 
delphia. Washington, who had been informed in some way 
of this movement, hurried forward, but as he rose a hill, he 
saw that he was too late. The woods and shores between 
him and Lafayette seemed alive with the red-coats, and the 
long line of gleaming bayonets that almost surrounded the 
American detachment, left scarcely a hope for its deliver- 
ance. Washington was exceedingly agitated. It was La- 
fayette's first essay at a separate command, and he would 
feel the failure of his favorite boy- general more than of his 
own. Besides, he could ill afford to lose two thousand men 
in his present condition. He watched every movement 
with his glass, and, at last, to his inexpressible joy and 
astonishment, saw Lafayette lead his swiftly-marching 
columns up to the ford and across it, in safety. The in- 
tensest excitement prevailed in camp. The danger, indeed 



320 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the almost certain overthrow, of Lafayette had been com- 
municated to the army, and Washington had ordered it to 
stand to arms, and when the former again entered Valley 
Forge in safety, those occupying it made it shake with their 
exultant shouts. 

A short time before the breaking up of the camp at Valley 
Forge, Washington, by the direction of Congress, adminis- 
tered the oath of allegiance to the officers of the army. 
The form of this oath was printed on a slip of paper, with 
blanks to be filled with the name and rank of the officer, to 
which he affixed his signature. Washington administered 
it to the chief officers, and Stirling, Greene and Knox to the 
others. To expedite the ceremony, several took the oath 
together. As Washington was reading it to the leading 
generals at the same same time, Lee, who had been ex- 
changed for Prescot, taken at Newport, suddenly withdrew 
his hand ; as quickly replacing it, he again withdrew it. 
Washington paused, and inquired what he meant by his 
hesitation. Lee replied, " As to King George, 1 am ready 
enough to absolve myself from all allegiance to him, but I 
have some scruples about the Prince of Wales." A roar of 
laughter, in which Washington himself could not help join- 
ing, followed this extraordinary exhibition of conscience. 

Howe, having completed his preparations for evacuating 
Philadelphia, secretly and silently stole out of the city be- 
fore daylight, on the 18th of June, and commenced his inland 
march for New York. Washington, anticipating this move- 
ment, had dispatched Maxwell's brigade to New Jersey, to 
cooperate with General Dickinson, commanding the militia 
of the state, in retarding the enemy. The news at length 
arriving of the actual departure of the British, he imme- 
diately ordered Arnold, still lame from the wound received 
at Saratoga, to occupy the city with a small detachment, 
while Wayne and Lee, at the head of two divisions, were 
directed to push rapidly across the Delaware and seize the 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 321 

first strong position found on the further bank. Washing- 
ton, with the remainder of the troops, followed, and in six 
days the whole army encamped at Hopewell, five miles from 
Princeton. He had previously, however, sent off Morgan to 
hang with his six hundred riflemen on the enemy's right 
flank. General Scott, with fifteen hundred picked men, and 
Cadvvallader, in command of the Jersey militia and Penn- 
sylvania volunteers, were afterward added, and directed to 
concentrate rapidly on the left flank and rear. 

In the meantime the motley host composing the British 
army, was pressing slowly forward. With its long train of 
baggage-wagons, horses and artillery, it stretched twelve 
miles along the road. The apparently interminable line 
was nearly half the day in passing a given point, and pre- 
sented a singular spectacle, with its mixture of regulars and 
loyalists, the whole terminating in a disorderly, boisterous, 
immense crowd of camp-followers. 

Washington had previously called a council of war, to 
determine whether it was best to hazard a general engage- 
ment. The decision was against it, which embarrassed him 
much, for it was clearly his wish to bring on a decisive 
battle. In this he was seconded strongly by Greene, La- 
fayette, Steuben, Wayne, Duportail, and Patterson. There 
is but little doubt that from the first he had determined to 
attack Lord Howe, for after this council he asked no one's 
advice, but proceeded on his own responsibility to take such 
measures as would make an engagement inevitable. Wayne 
was directed to join the divisions already pressing the 
enemy, while all the advance parties, numbering nearly four 
thousand men, Avere put under Lafayette, and ordered to 
gain the left flank. Howe had designed to march directly 
to Brunswick, and there embark for New York, but finding 
Washington in front, and not wishing, encumbered as he 
was, to give battle, he turned ofi" at Allentown, and took 
the road leading to Monmouth Court-IIouse and Sandy 



322 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Hook. At the latter place he expected to get his troops 
and baggage aboard of the ships. But finding, as he ap- 
proached the court-house, that the American army was 
steadily closing on him, he ordered the whole baggage-train 
to move to the front, and selecting a strong position, flanked 
by woods and swamps, halted. Knowing that the gallant 
young Lafayette, in executing the orders given him, would 
inevitably bring on a battle, Washington took measures to 
sustain him with the entire army, left under his own im- 
mediate command. At this juncture Lee, whose rank enti- 
tled him to the command of the advance, but who had 
yielded it to Lafayette in disgust, because Washington paid 
no attention to his advice, now asked to be reinstated. Em- 
barrassed by this inconsistent conduct, Washington, how- 
ever, concluded to send him forward with two additional 
brigades to the aid of Lafayette, the whole to be under his 
own command, but with orders not to interfere with any 
plans which the latter had already set on foot. He, at the 
same time, wrote to Lafayette, explaining the unpleasant 
position into which this eccentric conduct of Lee had thrown 
him, and expressed the confidence that he would waive his 
right, and thus relieve him from it. It was well that the 
American commander had such a noble, self-sacrificing heart 
to appeal to, or there would have been a serious quarrel here 
on the very eve of an engagement. The next morning, at 
five o'clock, Washington, some six miles distant, was aroused 
by the news that the British army had recommenced its 
march. He immediatelj^ dispatched an aid to Lee with the 
orders to attack the enemy, " imless there should be very pow- 
erful reasons to the contrary." With any other commander 
but Lee, this M^ould have brought on an immediate battle. 
Washington expected this to be the result, and immediately 
ordered the troops to march to his support. The 28th of 
June was one of the hottest, sultriest days of the year. It 
was also the Sabbath day, but the fierce mustering was not 







WASHINGTON URGING TUE COUNTUYMAN TO GKKATEK b 1' h l. I). 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 325 

to the sanctuary, nor the sounds that broke over the fields 
the sweet call of the church-bell to quiet worshipers. 

At early dawn Lee, in carrying out his orders, began to 
close on the enemy. Soon after, word was brought him that 
the whole British army was preparing to attack his division. 
Spurring with his staff along a causeway across a swamp, he 
galloped up a height beyond, on which Dickinson had drawn 
up his troops, and surveyed the field before him. He could 
not ascertain, from the conflicting reports, whether the 
rumor was true or false. In the meantime, Lafayette, ob- 
serving a false movement of a portion of the British army, 
hastened to Lee and asked if a successful attack could not 
be made there at once. " Sir," replied the latter, ** you do 
not know British soldiers. We cannot stand against them. 
We shall certainly bo driven back at first, and must be cau- 
tious." The fiery Frenchman did not hold British valor in 
such high estimation, and replied that they had been beaten, 
and presumed could be beaten again. At all events he 
would like to make the trial. It was now perfectly evident 
to him that Lee did not intend to carry out Washington's 
orders, and seeing at that moment an aid from the latter 
gallop up, to obtain information, he told him aside, to say 
to the general that his immediate presence on the spot was of 
the utmost importance. In the meantime, Scott and Maxwell 
were moving forward in beautiful order toward the right 
of the enemy. Lafayette had wheeled his column, and was 
pressing steadily toward the left, while Wayne was descend- 
ing like a torrent from the heights. Lee was apparently about 
to second this movement, when he saw the whole British 
army wheel about and march back on the Middletown road, 
as if to fall on him in one overwhelming attack. The whole 
sandy plain, which, like that of Marengo, seemed made on 
purpose for a battle-field, was filled with marching columns, 
and echoed to the sound of stirring music and shouts of 
men. In the distance streamed the long line of baggage- 



326 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

wagons, while nearer by, the glittering columns fell one 
after another into the order of battle, the rattling cavalry 
hurried forward with the blast of trumpets, and to Lee's 
distempered vision, he was about to be overwhelmed, while 
a deep morass in his rear cut off all retreat. He, therefore, 
immediately dispatched his aids to the different corps, with 
orders to fall back over the causeway, to the heights of 
Freehold beyond. Lafayette, stung with rage, slowly and 
reluctantly obeyed, while Wayne, astounded at the sudden 
order, could with difficulty extricate himself from the posi- 
tion in which this unexpected movement left him. The 
whole army at length repassed the morass, but Lee neglected 
to occupy the advantageous heights of Freehold, and con- 
tinued to retreat, followed by the shouting, taunting enemy. 
He did not even announce his retreat to Washington, and 
thus prepare him for an event so disastrous as the collision 
of one-half of the army in disorderly flight with the other 
half, must inevitably prove. Early in the morning, when 
about commencing the attack, he had dispatched a message 
to the commander-in-chief, briefly explaining his plans, and 
promising success. On the reception of this, Washington 
ordered Greene to march to the right of Lee, and support 
his Hank, while he himself pressed on directly in rear. 
Although it was early in the morning, the heat was intense. 
Not a breath of air stirred tlie still foliage, and the round, 
fiery orb of day seemed to roll up a brazen sky. Washing- 
ton, foreseeing how severely the troops would suffer from 
the heat, ordered them to throw away their knapsacks and 
blankets. Many went still further, and stripped off their 
coats also, and marched in their shirt-sleeves. It was a ter- 
rible day, the thermometer stood at ninety-six in the shade, 
while the deep sand through which the panting soldiers 
struggled, gave still greater intensity to the heat, and hence 
increased immensely the pangs of thirst. But the scattered 
firing in front had been heard, and the army pressed for- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 327 

ward with shouts. Washington, ignorant of Lee's retreat, 
had dismounted where two roads met, and stood watchins 
his marching columns, when a countryman dashed into his 
presence and announced that Lee was in full and disorderly 
retreat. His countenance instantly grew dark as wrath, and 
with a burst of indignation he sprang into the saddle, and 
burying the rowels in his steed, parted from the spot like a 
bolt from heaven. A cloud of dust alone told the course of 
the fiery and indignant chieftain. Meeting the head of the 
first retreating column, he flung a hasty inquiry to Osgood, 
the commander, as to the cause of this retreat, who replied 
with an oath, " Sir, we are fleeing from a shadow'^ and then 
dashed on to the rear, and reined up with a sudden jerk 
beside Lee. Leaning over his saddle-bow, his face fairly 
blazing Avith concentrated passion, he demanded, in a voice 
of- thunder, the meaning of this disorderly retreat. Stung 
by the overwhelming rebuke, Lee retorted angrily.* But 
it was no time to settle differences, and wheeling his horse, 
Washington spurred up to Oswald's and Stewart's regiments, 
and exclaimed — " On you I depend to check this pursuit J^ 
He then galloped along the ranks, and roused the enthu- 
siasm of the soldiers to the highest pitch, till the glorious 
shout of " Long live Washington'^ rose over the din of battle 
and drowned the loud huzzas of the enemy. Never, even 
while heading a charge, did Washington's personal appear- 
ance and conduct inspire his troops with such wild enthu- 
siasm. Under the sudden excitement into which he had 
been thrown, and the extreme heat combined, that colorless 
face which so rarely gave any indication of the fires within, 
was now suffused, and two bright red spots burned on either 
cheek, while his blue eyes fairly gleamed, and seemed to 

• Mr. Sparks informed me that he once asked Lafayette, at Lagrange, what the 
language of Washington to Lee really was. Lafayette replied, that although stand- 
ing near to both at the time, he could not tell. It was not the words but the man- 
ner that struck so deeply. No one had ever seen Washington so terribly excited 
his countenance was frightful. 



328 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

emit fire. His reeking horse was flecked with foam as he 
dashed hither and thither, and wherever his voice reached, 
men stood still. The troops gazed on him with astonish- 
ment, and even Lafayette forgot for an instant the peril of 
the army, in admiration of his appearance, declaring after- 
ward that he thought him at that moment the handsomest 
man he had ever beheld. In a few minutes the whole ap- 
pearance of the field was changed — the disorderly flying 
mass halted — order sprung out of confusion, and right 
under the galling fire of the enemy's guns, the ranks 
wheeled and formed in perfect order. Having thus estab- 
lished a firm front to the enemy, Washington rode back 
to Lee, and exclaimed — *' Will you, sir, command in that 
place ?" " Yes," replied the latter. " Well, then, I ex- 
pect you to check the enemy immediately.^^ " Your orders 
shall he obeyed'' retorted the enraged commander; ''and 
I will not he the first to leave the field.'' The conflict then 
became close and severe, and Washington, trusting to 
the steadiness of the troops, hurried back to bring up his own 
division. 

Lee had now the main army on his hands, which pressed 
against him with resistless power. The artillery played on 
his exposed ranks, while to the sound of bugles the English 
light-horse charged furiously on his left. Young Hamilton 
watched with a beating heart the bursting storm, and fear- 
ing that Lee would again retreat, crossed the field on a 
furious gallop, and with his hat off, his hair streaming in 
the wind, pressed straight for the spot where he stood, and 
reining up beside him, exclaimed in that noble enthusiasm 
which that day pervading all hearts saved the army, " I will 
stay with you, my dear general, and die with you. Let us all 
die here rather than retreat." Grand and glorious words, 
spoken there in the din of battle, amid the whistling balls, 
and worthy of the hero who uttered them. Lee struggled 
nobly against the overwhelming numbers that pressed on 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 329 

him, but was at length forced back.* So stubbornly, how- 
ever, did the Americans dispute every inch of ground, that 
when they retired from the woods the o])posing ranks were 
intermingled. Half that gallantry two hours before would 
have given a glorious victory. As it was, Lee succeeded in 
effecting a safe retreat. 

At this critical moment Washington arrived with the 
other division, which came up on almost a trot, and panting 
with thirst and heat. Hastily ordering up Greene on the 
right, and Stirling on the left, he himself led the centre full 
on the enemy. Stirling brought up Lieutenant Carrington's 
artillery on a full gallop, and unlimbering them with aston- 
ishing rapidity, opened a terrible fire on the advancing 
columns. Lee rode up to Washington, sajang coldly, " Sir, 
here are my troops ; how is it your pleasure I should dis- 
pose of them ?" Between the exhausting heat and their 
fierce conflict, they were completely beaten out, and Wash- 
ington ordered them to the rear of Englishtown, while he 
led on the battle with the fresh troops. The victorious 
enemy, pressing eagerly after Lee, came suddenly on the 
second line, now formed, and, flushed with success, bore 
steadily down on the centre. But here was Washington, 
around whom the troops gathered with invincible resolution 
and dauntless hearts, while Wayne, from a hill crowned by 
an orchard, rained a tempest of balls on the advancing 
columns. Hurled back by the steady volleys, the latter 
then moved almost simultaneously against the right and 

* It was during this part of the battle that an Irishman, while serving his gun, 
was shot down. His wife, named Molly, only twenty-two years of age, employed 
herself, while he loaded and fired his piece, in bringing water from a spring near 
by. While returning with a supply, she saw him fall, and heard the officer in 
command order the gun to be taken to the rear. She immediately ran forward, 
seized the rammer, declaring she would avenge his death. She fought her piece 
like a hero to the last. The next morning, Greene, who had been struck with her 
bravciy, presented her to Washington, who immediately promoted her to a ser- 
geant, and afterward had her name put on the half-pay list for life. Previous to 
this she fired the last gun when the Americans were driven from Fort Montgomery. 



ooU LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

left flanks of the Americans, but were immediately scourged 
back by Knox's heavy guns and the fierce fire of Stirling's 
battery. All this time Wayne kept firing with such deadly 
precision on the British centre that every attempt to charge 
proved abortive. Again and again the royal grenadiers 
moved forward in splendid order, and with a resolute aspect, 
but were as often compelled to retire from the close range 
of the American fire. Col. Monckton, their leader, saw at 
once that no progress could be made till Wayne was driven 
from that orchard, and riding along the ranks of his brave 
grenadiers, aroused their courage by his stirring appeals. 
He then formed them in a solid column, and shouted ''for- 
ward !" Moving swiftly forward at the charge step, but 
with the regularity and steadiness of a single wave, they 
swept up the slope. Wayne, the moment he detected the 
movement, ordered his men to reserve their fire till the column 
came within close range, and then aim at the officers. The 
grenadiers kept steadily on till they arrived within a few 
rods of the silent Americans, when Monckton waving his 
sword over his head shouted, " Charge !" At the same 
moment the order " Fire'' ran along the ranks of Wayne. 
A deadly volley followed, and nearly every British officer 
bit the dust, and among them the gallant Monckton. A 
close, fierce struggle ensued over his dead body, but the 
Americans finally bore it off in triumph. Wayne now bore 
steadily down on the centre, while the shouts of his excited 
troops were heard in the intervals of the heavy explosions 
of artillery as they bore the strong battalions fiercely back. 
Their march was like the step of fate, and they crowded the 
astonished enemy to the head of the causeway, and across 
it into the woods beyond. 

All this time Morgan with his brave riflemen lay at Rich- 
mond Mills, only three miles from Monmouth Court-IIouse, 
waiting for orders. This iron-hearted commander, a host 
in himself had his men drawn up in marching order, and as 



LIFE OF WASIIINGTOX. 331 

the heavy and constant explosions of cannon rolled hy, fol- 
lowed by the sharp rattle of musketry, he paced backward 
and ft)rward in the road, a prey to the most intense excite- 
ment. His eager eye sought in vain to catch the form of a 
swift rider, bearing the order to move forward. All day 
long he chafed like an imprisoned lion, yet, strange to sa}^, 
his existence seemed to have been forgotten in the sudden 
excitement and danger that followed Lee's mad retreat. 
Had he been allowed to fall with his fresh troops on the 
British rear, he would have broken them to pieces. 

The scorching Sabbath day was now drawing to a close, 
and as the blood-red sun sunk in the west, the whole British 
army retreated, and took up a strong position on the spot 
occupied by Lee in the morning. Woods and swamps were 
on either side, while the only causeway over which troops " 
could approach was swept by heavy batteries. Washington 
rode up and scrutinized the position long and anxiously. 
His strong frame had been tasked to the utmost, and as he 
sat on his exhausted steed and cast his eye over his gallant 
army, he saw that heat awd thirst had waged a more terrible 
conflict with them than the balls of the enemy. On every 
side arose the most piteous cries for water, and the well 
were hardly able to carry the wounded to the rear, while 
scores lay dead amid the sand, untouched by the foe. The 
battle seemed over for the night, but Washington, stung and 
mortified at the unpardonable errors and consequent misfor- 
tunes of the day, determined to rest with nothing short of 
a complete victory. He, therefore, brought up the two 
brigades of Poor and Woodford, and ordered them to force 
their way through the woods to the right and left flanks of 
the enemy, while he hurried the heavy cannon of Knox ta 
the front. In a few minutes the heavy batteries on both 
sides opened. But the two brigades found so many ob- 
stacles obstructing the way, and delaying their progress, 

that night came on before they could reach their posts. The- 

18 



332 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

attack was then abandoned ; the bugles sounded the recall 
of the advance parties, the heavy firing ceased, and nothing 
but the moans of the wounded and heavy tread of the bat- 
talions taking up their position for the night, broke the 
stillness of the Sabbath evening. The fainting army laid 
down to rest on the heated plain, in the full expectation of 
another battle in the morning. Washington stretched him- 
self in his mantle, and the young Lafayette, feeling deeply 
for the disappointment under which he knew him to be suf- 
fering, stole quietly to his side. Washington wrapped him 
affectionately in his mantle, and the two tired heroes slept 
together under the open sky. 

The British commander, however, had no intention of 
risking another battle, and so, at midnight, quietly aroused 
his slumbering army, and hurried away from the spot that 
had so nearly witnessed his overthrow. The morning drum 
roused up the American army at dawn, but no answering 
sound came from the enemy's camp. The moment Wash- 
ington was informed that they had fled, he sent on officers 
to ascertain what distance the army had reached. He found, 
to his great disappointment, that it had gained a march 
of nearly nine miles, and with its long train of baggage- 
wagons and artillery, was streaming swiftly along the road 
toward Sandy Hook. Feeling that his troops were too ex- 
hausted to overtake them, he gave up the pursuit. 

The American loss in this battle was in all, killed, wounded 
and missing, three hundred and fifty-eight; some of the 
latter, however, afterward rejoined the army. The British 
left two hundred and fifty on the field. Many they had 
b)uricd during the night, and a large number of those not 
badly wounded accompanied the army in its flight, so that 
their loss was never ascertained. Fifty-nine lay dead with- 
out a wound upon their persons. Several hundred took 
occasion, during this battle and the march, to desert, and 
returned to Philadelphia and to the sweethearts they loved 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 333 

better than their country's service, and others remained in 
New Jersey, so that the enemy was weakened in all proba- 
bly not less than t^YO thousand men. 

This, though a less bloody one, Avas one of the most re- 
markable battles in the Revolution, and fixed the turning 
point in the history of the army. The rally of the troops 
while in full retreat, the steady formation of the lines under 
the blaze of the enemy's guns, and after victorious assaults, 
were achievements worthy of the most veteran troops, and 
reflected honor on their teacher Steuben. Hamilton, who 
had been accustomed only to the movements of militia, was 
filled with admiration at the spectacle, and said he never 
before knew the value of discipline. From that time on, 
the regulars relied much on the bayonet, and the British, 
grenadiers saw with amazement themselves beaten with 
their favorite weapon. 

Though justly indignant with Lee for thus robbing him 
of victory, Washington immediately reinstated him in his 
old command. Lee, however, was not content with this, 
and wrote the latter an impertinent letter, to which a cold 
and curt reply was made. Enraged at this second attack, 
as he deemed it, on his honor and character, he wrote a still 
more insolent letter, which brought down the charge from 
his commander of being " guilty of a breach of orders, and 
of misbehavior before the enemy, and in making an unne- 
cessary, disorderly and shameful retreat." Lee's answer to 
this severe accusation Avas so insulting that he was imme- 
diately placed under arrest. His after trial and suspension 
from the army are well known. 

The army being recruited, Washington moved by easy 
marches to the Hudson, and crossing at King's Ferry, en- 
camped near White Plains. In the meantime he had heard 
of the arrival on the coast of the French fleet, composed of 
twelve ships of the line and four frigates, under Count D' 
Estaing, He immediately dispatched a latter of congratu- 



SS4 LIFE OF WASHING-TON. 

lation by his aid. Colonel Laurens, to the count. Soon after, 
on being informed that the fleet had reached Sandy Hook, 
he sent Colonel Hamilton to consult with him on the best 
course to pursue. It was at first hoped that a combined 
attack, by sea and land, could be made on New York, but 
the pilots reporting that it would be impossible to take the 
heavy ships over the bar, the enterprise was abandoned. 
Philadelphia being evacuated, there seemed now no direc- 
tion in which the fleet and army could cooperate except 
Khode Island. There was a garrison of six or seven thou- 
sand British at Newport, and it was therefore resolved that 
Sullivan should proceed thither with five thousand men, 
followed by Lafayette with two brigades, while the vessels 
would proceed by sea. But the delay caused by the want 
of troops proved disastrous to the expedition. Sullivan, 
however, succeeded at length in gathering an army of ten 
thousand men, and proceeded to besiege the place, while the 
French fleet came steadily up the channel, past the English 
batteries. Every thing now promised an easy victory, when 
the fleet of Lord Howe was seen hovering in the distance. 
D'Estaing immediately put to sea to engage it. But a vio- 
lent storm suddenly arose, disabling both fleets, and com- 
pelling the English vessels to return to New York for 
repairs, while those of the French came limping back to 
Newport. Sullivan's hopes again revived, but the French 
admiral, deaf to all appeals, would not cooperate with him, 
declaring his orders were, in case of any damage to repair 
to Boston and refit. Sullivan, enraged at what he con- 
sidered pusillanimous conduct, sent the count a fierce remon- 
strance. This only made matters worse, and the fleet took 
its departure for Boston, and the enterprise was abandoned. 
The ill will caused by this protest of Sullivan annoyed 
Washington exceedingly, and he took unwearied pains to 
heal the breach that had been made. He wrote to Lafay- 
ette to act as mediator, saying, *' Let me beseech you to 



I 



§ 




NlOrili ATlACk Al PAULI. 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 337 

afford a healing hand to the wound that has been unuiten- 
tionally made. America esteems your virtues and your 
services, and admires the principles on which you act. Your 
countrymen in our army look up to you as their pattern. 
The count and his officers consider you as a man high in 
rank, and high in estimation here, and also in France, and 
I, your friend, have no doubt but you will use your utmost 
endeavors to restore harmony, that the honor, glory, and 
mutual interest of the two nations may be promoted and 
cemented in the firmest manner." Lafayette needed no 
greater stimulus to action than the wishes of Washington, 
and he put forth unwearied efforts till harmony was 
restored. 

There being a suspicion that the British might plan an 
expedition to the east, for the purpose of attacking the 
French fleet, and perhaps Boston, Washington took post at 
Fredericksburg, near the Connecticut line, and commenced 
repairing the roads as far as Hartford, so that the army 
could march without impediment. Gates was sent, also, to 
take command at Boston, in place of Heath. This almost 
entire withdrawal of the troops east of the Hudson, left the 
smaller detachments which remained on the other side, 
much exjDosed, and provoked the attacks of the British. One 
party fell on Major Baylor's dragoons, located near Tappan, 
surprising and massacreing them without mercy. A similar 
attempt was made on Pulaski's legion, stationed at Egg 
Harbor, where privateers were being fitted out, and, through 
the villany of a deserter, met with like success. 

For four months the army lay comparatively idle, wait- 
ing the further movements of the British. In the mean- 
time Washington became very solicitous about the future. 
The want of funds in the treasury, together with the high 
price of food and clothing, seemed to threaten greater evils 
ihan mere physical exposure and suffering. The officers 
could not live on their pay, and Congress was without means 



338 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

to raise it, while discontent and loud complaints pervaded 
the army. In a letter to Gouverneur Morris, replying to 
certain inquiries, he says — " Can we carry on the war much 
longer ? Certainly not, unless some measures can be de- 
vised, and speedily, to restore the credit of our currency, 
restrain extortion, and punish forestallers. Unless these can 
b3 effected, what funds can stand the present expenses of 
the army? And what officer can bear the weight of prices 
that every necessary article is now got to ? A rat in the 
shape of a horse is not to be bought at this time for less 
than two hundred pounds, nor a saddle under thirty or 
forty ; boots twenty, and shoes, and other articles in pro- 
portion. How is it possible, therefore, for officers to stand 
this without an increase of pay ? And bow is it possible to 
advance their pay when Hour is selling at different places 
from five to fifteen pounds per hundred weight ; hay from 
ten to thirty pounds per ton, and beef and other essentials 
in this proportion." It was plain that this state of things 
could not last. The officers, wholly unable to meet their 
necessary expenses, would inevitably become bankrupt. 

During this summer a project was set on foot for the 
invasion of Canada by the allied armies, assisted by the 
fleet, but it met with Washington's decided opposition, and 
was finally abandoned. 

Autumn closed without any expedition of importance 
being undertaken, and the army retired to winter-quarters. 
The artillery was taken to Pluckemin, while the troops 
stretched in a Vine of cantonments from Long Island Sound 
to the Delaware. Head quarters were at Middlebrook, 
where were stationed, also, seven brigades. One brigade 
was at Elizabethtown, another near Smith's Close, to act as 
a reinforcement in case of need to "West Point ; and one 
at West Point. There were, also, two brigades at the Con- 
tinental village, situated between West Point and Fishkill, 
and three near Danbury, Connecticut. Thus the enemy in 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 330 

New York were confined to a small simce for action, whilo 
our troops, by reaching over so large a territory, could more 
easily obtain forage. Putnam was at Danbury, and McDou- 
gall in the Highlands, while Lincoln was sent to take com- 
mand at Charleston, to rejDel any attack the British might 
make on that city during the winter. Of the four regi- 
ments of cavalry, one was in each of the States of Virginia, 
Marjdand, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut. 

The vexed question of exchange of prisoners again came 
up, and Washington was much annoyed at the difficulties 
thrown in the way of its final adjustment. But the greatest 
cause of distress and anxiety was the contemptible condition 
to which Congress was reduced. During the whole year i< 
averaged not more than thirty members. Says Sparks : 
" Whole States were frequently unrepresented ; and, indeed, 
it was seldom that every State was so fully represented as 
to entitle it to a vote." But although so feeble in numbers, 
it was still feebler in intellect. There were but few even 
second-rate men among the members. Still its feebleness 
both in numbers and intellect, was not the worst features it 
exhibited. It had descended to a mere political arena, 
where j)rivate jealousies, and party feuds fought their bat- 
tles, reckless alike of the great struggle without, or the wel- 
fare of the country, except so far as they affected their 
selfish ends. Perhaps it is not to be regretted that its jour- 
nals were destroj^ed, and the history of our country saved 
from so great a blemish as the record of its acts would have 
1)een. The views and feelings of Washington on the sub- 
ject are exhibited in a letter to Benjamin Harrison, of Vir- 
ginia. In that he declared without hesitation, that he 
thought the separate States should " compel their aUest men 
to attend Congress.'' He said they were too busy with their 
individual concerns, but if the whole government should 
continue to be mismanaged, they, too, would ''sink in the 
general Avreck, which will carry with it the remorse of 



340 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

thinking that we are lost by our own folly and negligence." 
" The piibHc," he said, " believed that the States at this 
time are badly represented, and that the great and impor- 
tant concerns of the nation are horribly conducted, for want 
either of abilities or application in the members, or through 
the discord and party views of some individuals." It was 
plain that without some change in the administration of the 
national affairs the Revolution, with all its momentous in- 
terests, must end in utter failure. 

While Washington remained at head-quarters, Lafayette 
arrived at Fishkill, on his way to Boston, previous to em- 
barking for France. Here he fell sick. His journey from 
Philadelphia, in the midst of severe storms, had brought on 
an inflammatory fever, which carried him to the verge of 
the grave. His life was despaired of, and the whole army 
was in mourning. Washington immediately repaired to his 
bedside, and watched over him with the solicitude and fond- 
ness of a father. The young marquis was deeply affected 
by this attention, and carried the remembrance of it with 
gratitude and affection to his grave. 

The army being well hutted, and things comparatively 
quiet, Washington proceeded to Philadelphia, to consult with 
Congress on the best means to be adopted. He proposed 
three plans. First, to operate against the enemy on the 
sea-coast. The second to attack Niagara, and the British 
forces in that region, and the third to remain entirely on 
the defensive against the' British, and act only against the 
Indians, who had grown bold by their impunity. The lat- 
ter was resolved upon as giving repose to the country, and 
at the same time permitting a retrenchment in the expenses 
of the war, and restoring the currency, which was now in 
a shocking condition. The evils growing out of an army 
unemployed, and also of such a tacit confession of weakness, 
Washington thought would be overbalanced by the relief 
from military exaction, and by the fact that the alliance 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 341 

with France, and the threatened war of Spain with England' 
would tend more to secure the acknowledgment of our in- 
dependence, than victories. If he had consulted personal 
ambition, he would not have consented to idleness, which is 
always dangerous to a commander's reputation. 

Having completed his arrangements with Congress, he 
returned to Middlebrook. The army was consequently re- 
duced, and more attention paid to its discipline, which was 
entrusted to Steuben. In the meantime the expedition re- 
solved upon against the Indians, was set on foot. The Six 
Nations, with the exception of the Oneidas, and a few of 
the Mohawks, had joined the English, and, assisted by the 
Tories, kept the New York frontiers drenched in blood. The 
tragedies which were enacted at Cherry Valley and Wy- 
oming, with all their heart-sickening details and bloody pas- 
sages, were fresh in the recollection of every one. The Six 
Nations were spread along the Susquehanna, and around 
our inland lakes, extending as far as the Genesee Flats. 
The plan adopted by Washington was, to have Sullivan, 
with three thousand men, start from Wyoming, and advance 
up the Susquehanna, while General James Clinton, with 
one brigade, should ascend the Mohawk, and form a junction 
with the former wherever he should direct. Sullivan left 
Wyoming the last day of July, and did not return till the 
middle of October. He traversed the solitudes as far as 
Genesee river, burning and laying waste the towns and 
villages, and rich fields of grain ; moving like a devastating 
scourge over the land, and inflicting a punishment on the 
Indian tribes, which they never forgot. 

While Sullivan's army was thus feeling its way through 
the wilderness, Sir Henry Clinton, with a large body of 
troops ascended the Hudson, for the purpose of attacking 
Verplanck's Point and Stony Point, standing opposite each 
other, and, if possible, force his way through the Highlands. 
But Washington, being apprised of his designs, hurried off 



342 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

couriers to the different brigades in New Jersey, and soon 
their tread along the banks of the Hudson convinced Clin- 
ton that it would be a desperate undertaking to attempt to 
force the strong passes above, while so well guarded. He, 
however, took possession of the two points, which were fee- 
bly manned, and leaving strong garrisons in each, returned 
to New York. Washington then removed his head-quarters 
to New Windsor, a few miles above the gorge of the High- 
lands, and looking directly on West Point, while his army 
swarmed the forest-clad shores on either side, watching with 
anxious care this gateway of the State. 

Having thus drawn the forces under Washington into the 
Highlands, Clinton made a sudden incursion into Connect!- 
cut, hoping to tempt him thither also, where a more open 
country would make a battle less hazardous. Governor 
Trj^on, with two thousand men, sailed up Long Island 
Sound, and plundered New Haven. He then returned to 
Fairfield and Norwalk, and burnt them to the ground. No 
public stores were at either of these places, and the whole 
expedition was simply to pillage and to burn the dwellings 
of peaceful citizens. It was the unexpected irruption of a 
band of robbers, and the atrocities committed inflicted a 
lasting disgrace on the name of Tryon, and covered Sir 
Henry Clinton with infamy. This attempt to entice Wash- 
ington away from his stronghold proved abortive. It, how- 
ever, broke up his plan of not acting on the offensive, and 
he determined to strike a blow which, while it inflicted a 
severe chastisement on the enemy, should at the same time 
hush the complaints against his inaction. This blow was 
no less than the recapture of Stony and Verplanck's Points, 
with all their stores and armaments. It was his purpose 
at first to assail them both the same night, but this he after- 
ward abandoned, and concluded only to make a feint on the 
garrison at the latter place, to distract it from the attack 
on the former. To prevent miscarriage, through want of 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 343 

information, he carefully reconnoitered the place himself, and 
directed Major Henry Lee, who commanded a body of 
cavalry in the neighborhood, to ascertain accurately the 
condition of the fortress, and strength of the garrison. Tliis 
being done, he called no council of war, consulted none of 
his officers, but having fixed on Wayne as the proper person 
to take charge of the hazardous enterprise, sent for him, 
and explained to him his plans. Wayne at first seemed 
doubtful of success, but was ready to attempt any thing on 
Washington's request. To prevent any information of the 
project reaching the enemy, Washington communicated it 
to no one but Wayne, and one member of his family. The 
night before the attack, however, he sent for Colonel Ptufus 
Putnam, and took him into the secret, because he wished 
him to make the false attack on Verplanck's Point. 

Stony Point was considered almost impregnable to any 
storming party, it being washed on two sides by the Hud- 
son, while on the other lay a morass, which was overflowed 
at high water. Besides these natural defenses, a double 
row of abattis surrounded the hill, the whole surmounted 
by the fortress, itself garrisoned by six hundred men, and 
bristling with cannon. Washington, fully aware of the 
peril of the undertaking, drafted every officer and soldier 
himself, and a more splendid body of men never moved un- 
flinchingly up to the cannon's mouth. 

On the night of the 15th July, Wayne set out with his 
command, and at eleven o'clock reached the morass, which 
he found covered with two feet of water. The word " halt" 
then passed in a whisper down the line, and the whole stood 
to their arms while he and some of the officers reconnoitered. 
It was resolved to make the attack in two columns, and on 
both sides at once. Every musket of the advance j^arties 
was unloaded, and at the word forward, they, with shoul- 
dered pieces, plunged into the water, and pushed swiftly 
toward the heights. The sentinels on watch immediately 



344 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

gave the alarm, the shout of " to arms /" " to arms /'* and 
roll of drums rang along the hill, and in a moment that 
loftj rock was in a blaze, and raining a fiery deluge on 
Wayne's columns. But nothing could shake their steady 
courage. Through the iron sleet, over their own dead, over 
the abattis and up the steep acclivity, they pressed sternly 
on, the only sound- heard in their otherwise silent ranks 
being the high and ringing order "forward" "forward," 
of the officers. Their tread was like the march of destinj'^, 
and bearing down every obstacle, both columns entered the 
fort together, and as they met, the shout of victory rose 
wildly to the midnight heavens. It was gallantlj^ gloriously 
done. Wayne had a narrow escape. A musket-ball grazed 
the top of his head, and brought him to his knees. " March 
on," he shouted •' carri/ me into the fort. I will die at the head 
of my column." Next sunrise the morning-gun was fired 
by an American hand, and carried consternation to the 
English ships below. The land rung with acclamations. 
Wayne was overwhelmed with compliments, and his name 
was in every one's mouth. It was the most brilliant ex- 
ploit during the war, and would have covered the veterans 
of a hundred battles with glory. 

Washington went up to the fortress after the capture and 
examined it. Finding that it would require too many men 
to hold it against the force which the enemj^ could bring 
against it, by means of their fleet, he ordered the works to 
be destroyed. Lee's subsequent daring and successful attack 
at Paulus Hook, with his dismounted dragoons, was a repe- 
tition of the affair at Stony Point, and added fresh laurels to 
those which already adorned that noble officer*shead. With 
these brilliant exceptions, the array under Washington re- 
mained for the most part quiet. He employed this season 
of comparative inaction in corresponding with Congress, 
and other distinguished men, on the affliirs of the country, 
especially on the state of the currency. Congress continued 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 345 

to issue its worthless paper to such an extent, that by the 
following spring two hundred million of dollars were found 
to be afloat, and not one dollar redeemable. So low had 
this paper depreciated, that forty dollars of it, at that time, 
was equivalent to only one dollar in coin. This state of the 
currency was ruinous to every class of inhabitants, but on 
none did it fall so heavily as the soldiers and officers. As 
money sunk prices rose, and the officers were compelled to 
pay double for every thing, so that many resigned to escape 
beggary. " It was no uncommon thing to give a month's 
pay for a breakfxst," said Colonel, afterward General, Wil- 
liam Hull. He himself gave eleven thousand two hundred 
and fifty dollars for a chaise with a double harness. Added 
to this, speculators who had funds would buy up any article 
which they ascertained would soon be in demand, and thus 
exhaust the market, and then lay their own prices. These 
things aroused the indignation of Washington, and troubled 
him exceedingly. He declared that he was not afraid of the 
enemy's arms, but of this prostrate currency, and utter want 
of patriotism. He reasoned, he expostulated, he appealed. 
He plead not only for the living, but for the " unborn mil- 
lions," whose fate this struggle was to effect. " Shall," he 
exclaimed, " a few designing men, for their own aggran- 
dizement, and to gratify their own avarice, overset the 
goodly fabric we have been rearing at the expense of so 
much time, blood and treasure ? And shall we at last be- 
come the victims of our own lust of gain ? Forbid it — 
Heaven !" He found, also, cause of annoyance in the un- 
ceasing assassin-like attacks of Gates, and the more bold, 
open and malevolent assaults of Lee, who pursued him with 
such relentless fury that the name of Washington became 
the " moon of his madness." 

The French minister, Gerard, who accompanied Count 
D'Estaing, came to camp this summer, and had long con- 
sultations with Washington, and formed various i^lans for 



346 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the future. His letter to Count Vergennes at this time, 
shows that he was as much impressed by Washington's pre- 
sence and greatness of intellect as others. That impalpable 
influence and grandeur, which it has been found impossible 
to convey an idea of through language, affected all alike, 
from the most accomplished noblemen of Europe to the wild 
Indian of our own forests. 

As winter approached, head-quarters were established at 
Morristown, and the army, pitching its tents on the southern 
slope of Kimble's Mountain, commenced building huts. The 
cavalry was sent to Connecticut, while strong detachments 
guarded the passes of the Hudson. Clinton finding himself 
so closely watched, and constantly thwarted in any move- 
ments around New York, resolved on an expedition to the 
South, and at the latter end of December set sail for Charles- 
ton, with seven thousand troops. 

Washington, during the winter occupied the house of 
Widow Ford, to which he in February added two log build- 
ings. In a meadow at a short distance from the dwelling, 
between forty and fifty huts were erected for the Life Guard, 
numbering at this time two hundred and fifty. It was in 
this meadow Pulaski drilled his legion, and performed those 
daring and extraordinary feats of horsemanship for which 
he was celebrated. The winter set in excessively cold — 
nothing like it had ever been experienced in this country. 
The ice in New York Bay was frozen so solid that heavy 
artillery and troops crossed from the city to State n Island. 
The sufferings of the troops were consequently severe. The 
snow averaged from four to six feet deep on a level, obstruct- 
ing the roads and keeping back provisions from camp, so 
that the half frozen soldiers would sometimes go a week 
without meat of any kind, and then again without bread. 
All through January this half-starved army was protected 
only by tents, and with nothing but straw between them 
and the frozen ground, and a single blanket to cover them. 



''^^'^' 







ATTACK ON FORT IIIFFLIN. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 349 

Human nature could not bear up against such protracted 
sufferings, and desertions and plunder of private property 
became frequent. 

Washington, all this time, had not a kitchen to cook his 
dinner in, although his guards had put up the logs of one 
for him. His family consisted of eighteen, which, with that 
of Mrs. Ford, were *' all crowded together in her kitchen, 
and scarce one of them able to speak for the colds they had 
caught." Washington crowded into a kitchen with more 
than twenty others, for two months, without salary, without 
reward of any kind, and struggling with a selfish Congress, 
and compelled to defend the purity of his motives from the 
aspersions of those for whose benefit he is laboring, is a 
study for a patriot. 

During this extreme cold weather. Lord Stirling took 
fifteen hundred men in sleds and crossed the ice at midnight, 
from Elizabethtown to Staten Island, to surprise the British. 
The latter had, however, got wind of the expedition, and 
the troops returned with only a few prisoners, some blankets 
and stores as trophies. One third of this detachment had 
some parts of their persons frozen, and were more or less 
seriously injured. A sort of partisan warfare was maintained 
all winter, keeping the camp in a constant state of watch- 
fulness. As an illustration of the duties of the Life Guard, 
it was their habit during this winter, at the first discharge 
of guns along the line of sentinels, to rush into Washing- 
ton's house, barricade the doors, throw up the windows, and 
stand five to a window, with muskets cocked and brought 
to a charge. On some mere foolish alarm, Washington's 
wife and Mrs. Ford would often be compelled to lie shiver- 
ing within their bed-curtains till the cause of it could be 
ascertained. 

The Chevalier de Luzerne, who had succeeded Gerard as 
minister, visited Washington in camp, as he had previously 
done at West Point. The cheerful manner with which he, 



350 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

from the first, accepted the poor fare and miserable accom- 
modations offered him, had won the good-will and respect 
of both officers and men. Spain having also at last declared 
war against England, our prospects grew still brighter, and 
a Spanish agent, though not an accredited one, named Mi- 
ralles, accompanied Luzerne to look after the interests of his 
government in the south. He died this winter at Morris- 
town, and was buried with distinguished honors, Washing- 
ton and the principal officers appearing as chief mourners. 
To prevent any one from reopening the grave, to obtain 
possession of the diamonds and jewels that were buried with 
him, a guard was placed over it till the body could be taken 
to Philadelphia for interment. 

It was while encamped here that the following incident 
occurred, illustrating Washington's religious character. On 
hearing that the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was to be 
administered in the Presbyterian church, the following Sun- 
day, lie called on the pastor, Dr. Jones, and inquired if they 
allowed the communicants of other churches to unite with 
them in the service. " Most certainly," replied the doctor, 
"ours is not a Presbyterian table, but the Lord's table, 
general, and hence we give the Lord's invitation to all his 
followers of whatever name." Washington replied that he 
was glad of it — that so it should be, and next Sunday was 
seen seated among the communicants. Unsulhed by his 
camp life, with not a stain on his blade, he could go from 
the battle-field to the communion-table, as well as to his 
closet in the wintry forest. 

The subject of the exchange of prisoners being again pre- 
sented by the British commander, the French minister was 
very solicitous that Washington should not consent to any 
but the most favorable terms ; urging the double motive 
that the British government now found it hard to replenish 
the army from Germany, and needed men badly, and, also, 
that it was of the utmost importance to insist on a perfect 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 351 

equality In all things, not only for our own sake at home, 
but from the effect of such a position abroad. 

During this winter the finances of the country reached 
their lowest ebb, and national bankruptcy seemed inevitable. 
Lotteries for loans, laws making paper a legal tender, and 
every substitute only plunged the nation into deeper diffi- 
culties. Every measure calculated to bring relief was seized 
on by speculators, to advance their own interests, and thus 
added to the embarrassment already existing. Washington 
became so indignant at this villany of "forestallcrs,^^ as he 
called them, or mere speculators, that in a letter to Read, 
he said — " I would to God that some of the more atrocious 
in each State were hung in gibbets, upon a gallows four 
times as high as the one prepared for Haman." The British 
and loyalists saAV the dilemma into which the government 
had fallen, and increased it by issuing large quantities of 
forged paper. They felt and said that unless we could ob- 
tain a foreign loan, which they did not believe possible, 
" unless all the moneyed nations had turned fools," we must 
inevitably go to the wall. No more battles were needed ; 
bankruptcy would finish the rebellion. Washington had all 
along predicted such a crisis, and now, with other j)atriots, 
looked gloomily into that gloomiest of all gulfs in time of 
war, a bankrupt treasury, 

At the beginning of April the army consisted of only ten- 
thousand four hundred men. This number was soon after 
still more reduced, by sending off reinforcements to the 
South, where now was the chief theatre of the war. 

To enliven a little the gloom that at this time encom- 
passed the struggle for liberty, Lafayette, the untiring friend 
and resistless pleader for the American cause, arrived with 
the cheerful intelligence that the French government had 
sent six ships-of-the-line, and six thousand troops, which 
would soon be on our coast. He landed at Boston amid 
public rejoicing, but locked up the glad tidings he bore, till 

19 



352 ■ LIFE or AVASniNGTON. 

he could pour them forth to the man he loved better than 
his life. The meeting of Washington and Lafayette was 
like that of a son and father. The eager delight with which 
the one recounted what he had done, and told of the aid 
that was approaching, and the deep and affectionate interest 
with which the other listened, would form a subject for a 
noble picture. The marquis had obtained the promise of 
large supplies of clothing, while he had purchased on his own 
account, a quantity of swords and military equipage for the 
light-infantry he commanded. In speaking in council one 
day, of the enthusiasm and impetuosity of Lafayette, the 
Prime Minister of France, old Count de Maurepas, remarked 
— " It is fortunate for the king that Lafayette did not take 
it into his head to strip Versailles of its furniture, to send 
to his dear Americans, as his majesty would be unable to 
refuse it." How little the governments of France and 
Spain dreamed what a train they were laying under their 
own thrones, when they came to our relief in the struggle 
for independence. There never has been a more striking 
ilhistration of the folly of human scheming, and of the ease 
with which Heaven works out its grand designs, over all 
earthly mutations, as the ultimate result of our success on 
the destiny of Europe. 

As the summer advanced, the destitution of the troops in 
the article of clothing became an object of the deepest soli- 
citude. Many of the officers looked like beggars, while the 
tattered soldiers, most of them, had not a shirt to their 
backs. Congress being apparently unable to do any thing, 
private sympathy was invoked. The ladies of Philadel- 
phia, from the highest to the lowest, met together to make 
garments for the soldiers. Lafayette gave a hundred 
guineas in the name of his wife. The wife of the French 
minister six hundred dollars of continental paper. Like the 
heroines of old, the women sacrificed their jewelry, and 
labored as common seamstresses in the no1)le work. Twenty- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 353 

two hundred shirts were thus made, each bearing the name 
oT the maker. A ship load of mihtary stores and clothing, 
belonging to Hobert Morris, arriving about this time, this 
noble financier immediately made a present of the whole to 
the army. Such flashes of light shot through the gloom, 
keeping alive the faith, and love, and courage of those on 
whose shoulders the Revolution rested. 



354 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER Xn. 

Fall of Charleston — Arrival of the French Fleet — Defeat of Gates — Washington 
visits Rochanibeau — Treason of Arnold — Arrest of Andre — His Execution — 
Cornwallis in the South — Project of an Attaclc on New York — Suffering of the 
Troops — Mutiny in Wayne's Command — Mutiny of the New Jersey Troops, and 
prompt action of Washington — InefKciency of Congress, and Jealousies of the 
States — Arnold's Expedition into Virginia — Action between the English and French 
Fleets — Lafayette sent South to cooperate with Steuben — Operations in Virginia 
— Washington's Letter to the Manager of his Estate — State of the Army — Letter 
to Paul Jones — Patriotism of Robert Morris — Washington prepares to Attack 
New York — Cornwallis Retreats before Lafayette to Y^orktown — The Allied 
Army marches rapidly South— Washington visits Mount Vernon — Arrival of the 
French Fleet in the Chesapeake — Anxiety of Washington — Y'oiktown Invested — ■ 
Progress and Incidents of the Siege — Capitulation of the Army — Excitement and 
Joy of the American People — Effect of the News on the British Ministry. 

Washington remained comparatively inactive during the 
summer, waiting the arrival of the French fleet and army. 
Nothing could be done with his feeble force, unsustained by 
a fleet, except to hold the country around New York. In 
the meantime his heart was filled with the deepest solicitude 
for the fate of Charleston and the army under Lincoln, which 
occupied it. Hemmed in by the enemy, w^hose shot and 
shells fell with an incessant crash into the dwellings of the 
inhabitants, this intrepid commander, who had held out long 
after hope had abandoned every heart, was at last compelled 
with his three thousand troops to surrender. A dark cloud 
was resting on the South ; and that portion of the country 
which had hitherto escaped the ravages of an army, seemed 
now marked out for general devastation. • 

In the meantime, the French fleet arrived (July 10) at 
Newport. Hochambeau, the commander of the land forces, 
was required by his government to act in all cases under 
the direction of Washington, while American officers were 
to command French officers of equal rank. This wise 
arrangement produced harmony between the two armies. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 355 

and gave universal satisfaction. Washington immediately 
drew up a plan for a combined attack on New York by sea 
and land. But the British fleet having received a rein- 
forcement which gave it a decided superiority, the French 
squadron dared not put to sea, and remained blockaded in 
Newport. There also the French army remained for its 
protection, waiting the arrival of the other division of the 
fleet* and land forces, and the summer passed away without 
any thing being accomplished. 

In the place of success, there came the news of successive 
defeats at the South. The flill of Charleston in May was 
followed in August by the complete overthrow of Gates, at 
Camden — the loss of many noble troops and the death of 
Baron de Kalb. 

While in this state of inaction Rochambeau wrote to 
Washington, requesting an interview. This was granted, 
and the latter passing through Peekskill, met the former on 
the 21st, at Hartford. Before starting he had written to 
Arnold, commanding at West Point, to send a guard of fifty 
men to meet him at Peekskill, and collect forage for about 
forty horses. 

Arnold came down the river in his barge, and crossed the 
river with him at King's Ferry. The English vessel Vul- 
ture was in sight, and Washington scanned it long and 
carefully with his glass, and spoke at the same time, in a 
low tone, to one of his officers. This made Arnold very 
uneasy. Soon after, Lafayette, turning to Arnold, said, 
" General, as you have secret correspondence with the ene- 
my, 3^ou must learn what has become of Guichen."! For a 
moment the traitor thought himself discovered, and de- 
manded, sharply, what the marquis meant. The next 



* This was blockaded in Brest, and never arrived. 

■\ Guiclicn was the commander of the other portion of the French fleet, which Lad 
for a long time been expected, but which at tliis time was blockaded at Brest. 



S56 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

minute, however, the boat touched the shore and nothing 
more was said. 

Washington's visit to Rochambeau resulted in no plan of 
action, as every thing depended on the arrival of the ex- 
pected fleet and forces. 

After two days of pleasant intercourse, he started on his 
return, taking the upper route by way of Fishkill, so as to 
visit West Point. In the meantime, Arnold had completed 
his scheme, by which a blow was to be struck, against the 
colonies so momentous in all the circumstances attending 
it, and in the results designed to be accomplished, that even 
its failuix) fell like a thunderbolt at noon-day on the nation. 
This intrepid commander, who had won such laurels before 
Quebec, on Lake Champlain, and at Saratoga, sought and 
obtained the important command at West Point solely to 
deliver it into the hands of the enemy. Incensed at the 
injustice of Congress in promoting juniors over him, mad- 
dened by the accusations of his enemies, and mortified by 
the reprimand ordered to be administered by a court-martial ; 
he, with a baseness almost unparalleled in history, resolved 
to quench his rage in the ruin of his country. Down the 
abyss of infamy into which he was about to j)lunge, he 
gazed without flinching, hurried forward by the single in- 
tense, burnmg passion for revenge. He had long been in 
correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton for the delivery of 
West Point, and the absence of Washington to the east, was 
thought to be a favorable time to effect his object. 

Major Andre, under the name of Anderson, had been the 
medium through which the correspondence was carried on^ 
and be was, therefore, selected to consummate and close the 
bargain. He proceeded up the river with the intention of 
having an interview with Arnold, on board the British 
vessel Vulture. 

But difficulties being thrown in the way of this arrange- 
ment, he was finally induced to consent to go ashore. After 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. oj7 

midnight, on the morning of the 22d of September, he step- 
ped into the boat sent by Arnold to receive him, and over 
the unruffled, placid bosom of the Hudson, glittering with 
reflected stars, Avas rowed silently and swiftly to the shore. 
Arnold met him on the bank, and the two retired to a thick 
wood, and there, amid the darkness and silence, discussed in 
low tones the treason and the reward. It was Andre's in- 
tention to retire on board the Vulture, but not being able 
to conclude the business by daylight, he was persuaded by 
Arnold to go with him to his quarters at Smith's house. He 
had been directed by Sir Henry Clinton not to enter our 
lines or assume any disguise. He, however, now under the 
change of circumstances, did both, and thus at once became 
a spy, and exposed to the doom of one. During the da}^, 
Colonel Livingston opened a sharp fire on the Vulture, which 
comj)e]led her to drop down the river. Andre listened to 
the cannonading with visible emotion, but on its cessation 
resumed his composure. By ten o'clock the arrangement 
was completed, and Arnold returned in his barge to West 
Point. Andre passed the .day alone, gloomily. Although 
he had at great peril consummated an arrangement which 
would secure a vast advantage to his king, and joromotion 
and glory to himself, yet he could not but reflect that he 
was surrounded by enemies, and held concealed about his 
person the evidences of his character as a spy. He had 
been supplied by Arnold with two passports, one to the ship 
and another for the land route, should he be compelled to 
take the latter. Smith, who had brought him ashore, re- 
mained with him to take him back. Late in the afternoon, 
however, Andre ascertained, to his dismay, that Smith would 
not row him aboard the Vulture. He stubbornly resisted 
all appeals, and Andre was compelled to choose the land, 
route. Accompanied by Smith and a negro boy he set out 
soon after sunset for King's Ferry. As thc}^ passed leisurely 
alotig the country, Smith would often stop to converse with 



358 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

acquaintances by the way, but Andre, taciturn and gloomy, 
kept slowly on. The hostile tone of the conversation, and 
the many eager inquiries put to Smith, naturally kept liira 
in a state of intense anxiety. About nine o'clock they were 
hailed by the sentinel of a patrolling party commanded b}'" 
Captain Boyd. The latter was unusually pressing in his 
inquiries of Smith, and urged him with great imj^ortunity 
to stay over night. The latter declining, Boyd requested to 
see his passport. This was too positive and peremptory to 
be disobeyed, but the captain still pressed his inquiries and 
entreaties to stay over night. He at length so worked upon 
Smith's fears, by representing the dangers in advance, that 
the latter concluded to stop, and, notwithstanding Andre's 
expostulations, remained all night near the patrol. The 
two occupied the same bed, but it was a long and restless 
night to the British officer. Across the bright prospect 
which the successful issue of his expedition spread out be- 
fore him, would sweep the black clouds of anxiety and fear. 
In the morning they proceeded on their journey, and at 
length, having got be3'ond the reach of the patrolling party, 
and, as Andre thought, beyond all imminent danger, his 
naturally joyous spirit resumed its wonted cheerfulness, and 
his companion saw with amazement the sudden change from 
taciturnity and desjDondency to unusual hilarity and jDleasant 
conversation. Poetry, art, and literature, one after another, 
became the theme of discourse, and he already seemed to 
see the end of the war and the reduction of the colonies, to 
the consummation of which his sagacity and 2^ersonal daring 
would so largely have contributed. Near Pine's Bridge, 
Smith parted with him and returned to Peekskill. Andre 
kept on alone till within a half mile of Tarrytown, when he 
was suddenly stopped by three men, lying in wait for sus- 
picious persons and cattle going toward New York. Andre 
inquired to which party they belonged, and understanding, 
from their answer that they were adherents of the English, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 359 

immediately announced himself as a British officer. In a 
moment he saw his mistake, and pulled out his j^-issport. 
This would have been sufficient but for the fatal confession 
that he had already made. The men then took him into 
the bushes and began to examine him. They stripped off his 
clothes, but could discover nothing. At length, in drawing 
off his stockings, they detected the jiapers containing the 
drawings of West Point, together with a full and accurate 
description of every part of the entire works, and estimates 
of the forces ; also a plan of the future campaign which had 
been sent to Arnold by AVashington a few days before. 
Andre then offered heavy rewards if they would let him go ; 
but, true to their country, these three patriots refused the 
bribe, and took him to Col. Jameson, commanding at North 
Castle.* This officer, bewildered and almost bereft of his 
senses, or else possessed of stupidity that rendered him unfit 
to command, resolved, with all this damning proof before 
him, to send Andre to Arnold. Major Talmadge, second in 
command, was absent when Andre was brought in, and did 
not return till evening. When Jameson told him what had 

* Much has been said respecting the character of these three men— John Pauld- 
ing, David WiUiams, and Isaac Van Wart — many maintaining that they were nothing 
but common plunderers, and were governed solely by the hope of reward in re- 
taining Andre. I must confess that from the most careful investigation of the mat- 
ter, Paulding seems to me to have been the only one in whom the thought of a 
bargain, after the discovery of Andre's true character, never entered. Their occu- 
pation was, doubtless, very equivocal — but it must be remembered that the times 
were dreadfully out of joint, and love of country could be strong under circum- 
stances that at this day seem strange. It showed itself even in Mutiny. The 
utter want of honesty on the part of government to pay its troops, rendered many 
of them not very scrupulous about the method of reimbursing themselves. To 
the curious in such matters I would say, that the following complaint is among 
General Rufus Putnam's papers, now in possession of Judge Putnam of Ohio : — 
"Mrs. Hannah Sniffen says, that Gabriel, Joseph, and Abraham Riquard, David 
Hunt, Isaac Van Wart, and Pardon Burlingham, did, on the night of the 27th ult. 
take from Mr. James SnifFen, an inhabitant of White Plains, without civil or mili- 
tary authority, three milch coics, which they have converted to their own private 
use. HANNAH SNIFFEN, in behalf of her father. 

Crane Pond, July 9th, 1780." 



3G0 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

occurred, he was filled with amazement, and declared openly 
that Arnold was a traitor, and offered to take on himself the 
resjDonsibility of acting on that conviction. To this Jameson 
would not listen. Talmadge then insisted vehemently on 
bringing the prisoner back. Jameson finally consented to 
do so, but, in spite of all remonstrance, would send a letter 
to Arnold, informing him of the arrest of Johij Anderson, 
(as he was called.) The papers he had already dispatched 
to meet Washington, now on his return from Hartford. 

The messenger being well mounted overtook the party 
having charge of the prisoner, and they returned to North 
Castle. Andre now saw that, in all probability, his fate was 
sealed. Exposure was unavoidable ; the proofs of his and 
Arnold's crime he knew were more than ample. The pros- 
pect grew black as midnight around him, and he was ab- 
sorbed in gloomy reflections. Pondering solemnly on his 
condition, he paced up and down his apartment with a slow 
and measured stride. Talmadge sat watching him, and as 
he observed the manner in which he turned on his heel, and 
his military tread, as he jDaced the floor, he was convinced 
that the indifferently dressed prisoner before him had been 
bred to the profession of arms. The next morning Andre 
wrote a letter to Washington, in which he frankly confessed 
his name and rank, and the manner in which he came within 
the American lines. Previous to sending it he showed it to 
Talmadge, who was confounded at the startling develop- 
ments it contained. 

The papers sent to Washington missed him, as he did not 
return by the road he went, but took the northern route to 
Fishkill, where, Sept. 24, he arrived late in the afternoon, 
the very day after Andre's capture. Stopping here only a 
short time, he pushed on for Arnold's head-quarters, eighteen 
miles distant. He had gone, howevej' but a mile or two, 
before he met the French minister, Chevalier Luzerne, on 
his way to Newport, to visit Rochambeau. The latter pre- 




ABANDONING THE VKSSILS AT CLOUC ESTER. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 363 

vailed on him to return to Fislikill for the night, as he had 
matters of importance to commmiicate. i 

The next morning Washington was early in the saddle, 
having sent word beforehand to Arnold that he would break- 
fast with him. It was a bright autumnal morning, and the 
whole party in high spirits pushed rapidly forward through 
the gorges of the Highlands. As they came opposite West 
Point, Washington, instead of continuing on to Arnold's 
quarters, which were on the same side, turned his horse 
down a narrow road toward the river. Lafayette observing 
it, exclaimed " General, you are going in the wrong direc- 
tion ; you know Mrs. Arnold is waiting breakfast for us, 
and that road will take us out ofour way." " Ah !" replied 
Washington, laughingly, " I know you young men are all 
in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where she is as 
soon as possible. You may go and take breakfast with her, 
and tell her not to wait for me. I must ride down and ex- 
amine the redoubts on this side of the river, and will be 
there in a short time." The officers preferring not to f)ro 
ceed without him, two aids were dispatched to tell Arnold 
not to wait breakfast. The latter, therefore, with his flimily 
and the two aids sat down to the table. While they were 
conversing on indifferent toj)ics, a messenger entered and 
handed a letter to Arnold, who opened and read it in pre- 
sence of the company. It was the one from Jameson, an- 
nouncing the capture of Andre. Although the thunderbolt 
fell sadden and unexjDectedly at his feet, it did not startle 
him from his self-command. Merely remarking that his 
presence at West Point was necessary, he requested the aids 
to say to Washington on his arrival that he was unexjDect- 
edly called over the river, and would be back soon. Repair- 
ing to his wife's chamber, he sent for her at the breakfast- 
table, and told her he must instantly leave her and his 
country forever, for death was his certain doom if he did 
not reach the enemy before he was detected. Paralyzed 



364 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

by the sudden blow, she fell senseless at his feet. Not 
daring to call for help, Arnold left her in that state, and 
rapidly descending to the door, mounted one of the horses 
belonging to Washington's aids, and taking a byway pushed 
for the river, where his barge was moored. Jumping in he 
ordered his six oarsmen to pull for Teller's Point. Stimu- 
lating them to greater efforts by the promise of two gallons 
of rum, he swept rapidly past Verplanck's Point, and as he 
aiDj^roached the Vulture waved a white handkerchief, and 
was soon safe on board. In the meantime Washington hav- 
ing finished his survey, rode on to Arnold's house. Taking 
a hasty breakfast, he said he Avould not wait for Arnold to 
return, but cross over to West Point and meet him there. 
As the boat swept over the water, he remarked, " Well, 
gentlemen, I am glad on the whole that General Arnold has 
gone before us, for we shall now have a salute, and the roar- 
ing of the cannon will have a fine effect among these moun- 
tains." At this moment an officer was seen coming down 
the rocky hill-side, to meet the barge. It was Colonel 
Lamb, who looked confounded on seeing the commander- 
in-chief. He commenced an apology, declaring that he was 
wholly ignorant of his Excellency's intention to visit West 
Point. *' How is this, sir," broke in Washington, " is not 
General Arnold here ?" " No, sir," replied the colonel, 
" he has not been here these tAvo days, nor have I heard 
from him in that time." " This is extraordinarj^," replied 
Washington, " he left word that he had crossed the river. 
However, our visit must not be in vain. Since we have 
come we must look around and see in what state things 
are with you." After passing through the garrison and 
inspecting the various redoubts he returned to the land- 
ing place and recrossed to Arnold's house. As the boat 
touched the opposite shore, Hamilton, who had remained 
behind, was seen coming rapidly down to the shore. Ap- 
proaching Washington, he spoke in a low and anxious 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 305 

tone, when tlie two immediately hastened to the house. 
Here Hamilton gave him the papers found on Andre, to- 
gether with the letter of the latter to Washington. Had 
an earthquake suddenly opened at the feet of the com- 
mander-in-chief he could not have been more astounded. 
Himself, the army, West Point, and all, were standing above 
a mine that might explode at any moment. How far did 
this treason extend ? Whom did it embrace ? When was 
the hour of its consummation ? were questions that came 
home, like the stroke of a serpent's fang, to his heart. 
Ordering Hamilton to mount a horse and ride as for life to 
Verplanck's Point, and stop Arnold, if possible, he called in 
Lafayette and Knox and told them what had occurred, 
merely remarking at the close, " Whom can we trust now ?" 
His countenance was calm as ever, and being informed that 
Arnold's wife was in a state bordering on insanity, he went 
up to her room to soothe her. " In her frenzy" she wp- 
braided him with being in a plot to murder her child. " One 
moment she raved, another she melted into tears. Some- 
times she pressed her infant to her bosom and lamented its 
fate, occasioned by the imprudence of its father, in a man- 
ner that would have pierced insensibility itself"* It was 
four o'clock in the afternoon when these disclosures were 
made to Washington, and an hour later, dinner being an- 
nounced, he said, " Come, gentlemen, since Mrs. Arnold is 
unwell and the general is absent, let us sit down without 
ceremony." 

No one at the table but Knox and Lafayette knew what 
had transpired, nor did Washington exhibit any change of 
demeanor, except that he was more than usually stern in 
voice and manner. But his mind, oppressed with nameless 
fears, wandered far away from that dinner- table, and no 
sooner was the repast over than he addressed himself to the 

• Vide Letter from Hamilton. 



3GG LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

task before him. -He wrote rapidly, and couriers were soon 
seen galloping in every direction. He announced the trea- 
son to Colonel Wade, commanding at West Point, in the 
absence of Colonel Lamb, in the single sentence, '' General 
Arnold is gone to the enemi/,'' and directed him to put every 
thing in instant preparation for a night attack. He sent a 
messenger to Colonel Gray, ordering him to march at once 
to West Point with his regiment ; a third to General Greene 
at Tappan, with directions to leave his heavy baggage be- 
hind, and press swiftly as possible for King's Ferry, where, 
or on the way, other orders would meet him. To Colonel 
Livingston, at Verplanck's Point, he sent the laconic letter, 
" I wish to see you immediately , and request that you will come 
without delay y To Major Low, at Fishkill, and an officer 
with a party at Staatsburg, he sent couriers " directing them 
to march for West Point without delay." He also wrote to 
Colonel Jameson, to guard Andre closely and send him im- 
mediately to West Point. The latter messenger arrived at 
midnight in a pouring rain, and summoned Andre from his 
bed, to face the pitiless storm. The guard marched the 
whole dark and dismal night, and arrived at Robinson's 
house, Arnold's head-quarters, early in the morning. 

Washington having done all he could to arrest the enor- 
mous evil that threatened to overwhelm him, retired late at 
night to his bed, fearful that the sound of the enemy's can- 
non would awake him before daylight. 

Not knowing how many officers might have been cor- 
rupted by Arnold, and finding a major-general's name men- 
tioned in the papers taken from Andre, he next morning 
sent Major Lee with his dragoons to hover near New York, 
and obtain all the information in his power from the secret 
agents that he always kept in the city, and who advised him 
of every movement of the enemy. These spies were un- 
acquainted with each other, and their communications came 
through different channels, so that by comparing the several 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 367 

accounts Washington at a^ny time was able to come to pretty 
accurate conclusions respecting any project of Sir Henry 
Clinton. They usually wrote with an invisible inlv which 
a jDarticular chemical fluid alone could bring out. A few 
lines on an indifferent subject would be written in common 
ink and the rest of the letter filled up with important news. 
Through these spies Washington soon ascertained that 
Arnold was alone in his treason.* 

A court-martial was now called to judge Andre, and he 
was condemned as a spy. When Sir Henry Clinton heard 
of it, he put forth every effort to avert the dreadful fate of 
his officer. He sent three commissioners to reason and re- 
monstrate with *the officers of the court. He appealed to 
Washington, while Arnold wrote him a threatening letter, 
declaring if Andre was hung he would revenge his death 
on every American prisoner that fell into his hands. 

Washington, though his heart was filled with the keenest 
sorrow for the fate of one so universally beloved, and pos- 
sessed of such noble qualities of heart and mind refused to 
arrest the course of justice. As in all cases where great 
trouble came upon him, so in this, he said but little, but 
silently and sternly wrestled with it alone. The vastness 
of the plot, and the rank of those -engaged in it, only ren- 
dered the example still more imperative — besides, stern 
justice to the nation required it. Just after the battle of 
Long Island, Captain Nathan Hale, a graduate of Yale Col- 
lege, a young man of rare purity and elevation of character, 
went over to Brooklyn, at the request of Washington, to 
ascertain the plans and movements of the enemy, and just 
as he was passing the outposts on his return, was taken, 
tried, and hung as a spy. His nobleness of heart did not 
shield him even from the brutality of his enemies. Washing- 
ton, therefore, in looking at the matter from every jDoint of 

* Vide Sparks' Life of Washington. 



368 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

view, could see no way of sparingj\.ndre except by exchang- 
ing him for Arnold. Although he did not make this formal 
proposition, he caused Clinton to be made aware of his views. 
The latter, however, could not give up the traitor, richly as 
he merited death, and justice had to take its course. When 
Andre found that all hope was at an end, he addressed the 
following letter to Washington, which doubtless shook his 
resolution more, and inflicted a keener pang than all which 
had gone before. 

" Tappan, Oct, 1st, 1780. 
" Sir, — Buoyed above the terror of death by the con- 
sciousness of a hfe devoted to honorable pursuits, and stained 
with no action that can give me remorse, I trust that the 
request I make to your excellency at this serious period, and 
which is to soften my last moments, will not be rejected. 
Sympathy toward a soldier will surely induce your excel- 
lency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my 
death to tlie feelings of a man of honor. Let me hope, sir, 
that if au;;ht in my character impresses you with esteem 
toward me, if aught in my misfortunes marks me as the 
victim of policy and not of resentment, I shall experience 
the operation of those feelings in your breast by being in- 
formed that I am not to die on a gibbet." 

He waited anxiously but in vain for an answer. Still he 
could not believe his request would be denied, and never 
ceased to hope till the scaffold rose before his vision. It 
required a severe struggle on the part of Washington to re- 
fuse this touching request. The soul of honor himself, and 
keenly alive to the feelings of an officer and a gentlemen, 
he felt in his own bosom how great the boon asked by 
Andre was ; but the sense of duty to his country forbade the 
granting of it. It was necessary to have it understood that 
nothing could avert the fixte or death of shame of a con- 
victed spy, and on the 2d of October, with the courage and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 3G9 

composure of a truly heroic man, Andre expiated his crime 
on the scaffold. 

In the meantime the prospects of the colonies in the 
South assumed a still more gloomy aspect. Cornwallis was 
sweeping the Carolinas with his troops, while a strong ex- 
pedition was being fitted out to overrun Virginia. The 
complicated and disheartening state of things, however, pro- 
duced one happy effect — it imparted some humility to Con- 
gress, so that it was glad to turn to Washington for help. 
Gates, its favorite general, whom it had sent South, Avas now 
completely disgraced, and it was compelled at this late day 
to request the commander-in-chief to apjwint a successor. 
He selected Greene, who soon showed the wisdom of the 
choice, and commenced that career which covered him and 
his tattered army with glory. Congress also passed the 
measures which Washington for years had urged in vain — 
established the half-pay sj'stem, and decreed that all future 
enlistments should be for the war. 

The summer having passed in comparative idleness, 
Washington resolved, if possible, to strike a blow before 
winter set in. This was no less than a combined attack on 
New York. The position of the enemy was thoroughly 
reconnoitered — boats were kept mounted on wheels — and 
the whole plan of attack fully developed. Washington had 
spent a whole campaign in maturing this scheme, which 
promised the most brilliant success. Every thing was 
nearly ready for the attempt, when several British vessels 
of war entered the river and put a stoj) to the preparations. 
Not long after, the army went into winter-quarters near 
Morristown, at Pompton, and in the Highlands, and nothing 
further was done. Washington established his head-quarters 
at New Windsor, which looked directly down on West Point 

As cold weather came on the troops began to suffer 
severely for want of clothing and stores, and to save and 
feed a portion of them he was compelled to- send back the 

20 



370 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

new levies. He had predicted this state of things in the 
latter part of Noveraher, in a letter to General Sullivan, a 
member of Congress at the time. After discussing the sub- 
ject at length, he says — 

" Another question may here arise. Where are the means? 
Means must be found or the soldiers must go naked. But 
I will take the liberty in this place to give it as my opinion 
that a foreign loan is indispensably necessary to the con- 
tinuance of the war. Congress will deceive themselves if 
they imagine that the army, or a state, that is the theatre 
of war, can rub through a second campaign as the last. It 
Avould be as unreasonable as to suppose that because a man 
had rolled a snow-ball till it had acquired the size of a horse, 
he might do so till it was as large as a house. Matters may 
be pushed to a certain point, beyond which we cannot move 
them." 

Greene wrote from the South that his troops were " lite- 
rally naked" — and 'they did m.arch naked by hundreds into 
battle, presenting an exhibition of patriotism and valor 
never before surpassed in the annals of war. Not only was 
clothing withheld, but the pay of the troops also, and the 
•evils which Congress could not anticipate, though constantly 
thundered in their ears by Washington, now began to fall 
■on the army. On the 1st of January, 1781, a mutiny broke 
out in the Pennsylvania line, stationed at Morristo\vn, and 
thirteen hundred men drew up on parade preparatory to a 
march on Philadelphia, to force Congress at the point of the 
bayonet to give them redress. The officers rushed among 
them, and unable by commands to restore obedience resorted 
to force. The mutineers fired in turn, killing one officer 
and mortally wounding another, and for two hours there 
was an indescribable scene of horror and confusion. At 
length the mutineers got in marching order, and scouring 
the grand parade with four pieces of cannon, marched off. 
The inhabitants hred alarm-guns on the route to Elizabeth- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 371 

town, and beacon-fires blazed on the heights, announcing 
some great and imminent peril. Sir Henry Clinton hearing 
of the revolt, sent commissioners to them, offering them 
high rewards to join* the British service. They rejected 
with scorn the inflimous propositions, saying, " What ! does 
he take us for Arnolds ?" and immediately sent these propo- 
sals in an envelop to Wayne, declaring, that if the enemy 
made any hostile demonstration they would march at once 
against him. The emissaries were seized and given up, and 
afterward tried by court-martial and shot. Congress, which 
could turn a deaf ear to the counsels and prophetic appeals 
of Washington, was now thoroughly alarmed. Although it 
had stubbornly resisted his advice, resolutions would not 
put down bayonets, and a committee was appointed to con- 
fer with the mutineers. They met at Trenton, and the 
claims of the latter to their pay and to be discharged at the 
end of three years, instead of at the close of the war, being 
granted, nearly the whole line disbanded for the winter. 
Washington clearly foresaw that this success of the revolters 
would stimulate other portions of the army to a similar 
attempt. The result would be the self-destruction of the 
entire army, and he resolved that a second mutiny should 
be put down by the strong arm of force, whatever might 
be the loss of life that accompanied it. He therefore ordered 
a thousand men, who could be trusted, to be picked from 
the different regiments in the Highlands, with four days' 
provision constantly on hand, and ready to march on a mo 
ment's notice. His anticipations proved true, for encouraged 
by the success of the Pennsylvania troops, those of New 
Jersey, stationed at Pompton and Chatham, revolted also — 
determined to march to Trenton, where Congress was then 
flitting, and demand their rights by force of arms. Wash- 
ington immediately dispatched six hundred men, under 
Howe, with orders to march rapidly and secretly to the camp 
of the mutineers The snow was deep and the cold intense. 



372 LIFE OF WASHINGTO^N". 

but this band of resolate men pushed swiftly forward, 
bivouacking where night overtook them, and on the fourth 
day arrived near the camp of the revolted troops, Jan. 27th, 
1781. Halting till midnight, Howe resumed his march, 
and taking positions, and planting his artillery so as to com- 
mand every approach, he waited for daylight to appear. 
When light broke over the encampment, the mutineers to 
their amazement saw ranks of armed men on every side, 
and cannon sweeping the entire field. Howe ordered them 
to parade at once, and without arms, in front of their hutsy 
saying that he would allow but five minutes in which to do 
it. " What," said they, "and no conditions?" 

" No conditions !" was the stern response. 

" Then, if we are to die, we might as well die where we 
are as any where else." 

The regiment of Colonel Sprout was immediately ordered 
to advance, when the promise of submission was reluctantly 
given. They then paraded without arms and gave up three 
of the ringleaders, who were tried and condemned on the 
spot. Two were shot, twelve of their own companions 
being compelled to act as executioners. The report of those 
twelve muskets, and the lifeless bodies of their leaders 
stretched on the snow, carried consternation into the hearts 
of the others, and they made concessions to their officers, 
and promised obedience in future. The blow had been sud- 
den and terrible, and needed no repetition. Washington 
and Congress were not unlike only in preventing evil, but 
in arresting and curing it. But just, as well as severe, the 
former immediately appointed commissioners to inquire into 
the grievances of the soldiers, which he knew were not 
imaginary, and have them redressed. This one example 
was sufficient, and the whisper of revolt was heard no more 
in the army. 

While these painful events were transpiring, Laurens, 
"who had been appointed by Congress a commissioner 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. oiO 

to visit France, to negotiate a loan of money and obtain 
supplies, was in communication with Washington to receive 
the advice and instructions which Congress had appointed 
the latter to give him. 

The jealousies of the different States, and the fear of Con- 
gress to assert its authority, and command troops to be raised, 
taxes levied, and clothing supplied, kept the army in a piti- 
able condition. The resolutions it had passed, in accordance 
with Washington's views, were all well in their way, but 
worthless unless enforced. Right in the face of its decrees 
that troops should be enlisted for the war, the States con- 
tinued on the old system of engaging them only for a spe- 
cified time. The bugbear of dictatorial power which they 
feared that Washington, with an army entirely under his 
control, might assume, wore a more horrid aspect than the 
evils under which the nation suffered, and while they allowed 
Congress to make alliances, vote away the money of the 
nation, and do all other acts of the highest executive 
authority, it must not draft soldiers and lay personal taxes, 
lest it should infringe individual libertj^ 

During the winter, Clinton planned an expedition South, 
composed of fifteen hundred men, and placed it under 
Arnold, who was directed to ascend the Chesapeake and 
reduce the country. The traitor, zealous for his new mas- 
ter, passed up the James River to Richmond, which he 
burned to the ground, and by his depredations seemed de- 
termined to carry out the threat he had made to Washing- 
ton, if he should allow Andre to be executed. Washington 
dispatched forces to the South to meet this new inroad, and 
was exceedingly anxious that a portion of the French fleet 
should cooperate with them, and blockade Arnold in James 
River. Such a movement, he was confident, would secure 
the destruction of the corps. But the fleet was blockaded 
m Newport by the British, and could not with safety put 
to sea. In the middle of January, however, a severe storm 



3TC LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

swept the eastern coast, and when it broke, a British sixty- 
four was seen off Montauk Point, under jury-masts, the 
Culloden, a seventy-four, aground on a reef near Gardiner's 
Island, while the Bedford, another seventy-four, was adrift 
in the Sound, swept of every spar, and her whole upper tier 
of guns thrown overboard. Destouches, who had succeeded 
Chevalier de Ternay, after his death, reconnoitered the 
shattered fleet for the jDurpose of engaging it, but found it 
still too strong to be attacked. lie, however, took advan- 
tage of its scattered condition to send three vessels of war, 
in accordance with Washington's request, to blockade Ar- 
nold. These, under M. de Tilly, aiTived in the Chesapeake ; 
but Arnold, who had been advised of the movement, with- 
drew his ships so far up the Elizabeth River that the 
heavier vessels of the French could not reach him. Thus 
the ex^^edition, which, if it could have sailed sooner, as 
Washington expected, would have been successful, was ren- 
dered abortive, and the vessels returned to Newport. 

M. Destouches now resolved, at the earnest recommenda- 
tion of Washington, to proceed to sea with his whole fleet 
and sail for the Chesapeake. He departed on the 16th of 
March, followed by the British admiral with the whole of 
his fleet. An action took place off the capes of Virginia, 
which terminated witlK)ut any decisive result, and the 
Frencli squadron returned to Newport. Previous to this, 
when Washington was informed of the departure of the 
three vessels to blockade Arnold, he dispatched Lafayette 
with twelve hundred men, by land, to cooperate with him 
and aid Baron Steuben, who with a mere handful of militia 
had been left to resist the invasion. 

In the meantime, (March 2d,) Washington made a visit 
to Newport, to consult with Rochambeau on a plan for the 
summer camimign. He was received with great honor, and 
after an absence of three weeks returned to head-quarters. 
The movements of the enemy, howbver, were so uncertain. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 377 

that nothing definite could be decided upon except in any 
case to act in concert. Whatever shape affairs might ulti- 
mately assume, one thing was evident, the British were 
directing their attention more exclusively to the South. 
Notwithstanding the defeat of Tarleton by Morgan, and the 
consummate generalship exhibited by Greene, Cornwallis 
had obtained a strong foothold in the Carolinas, and it was 
clearly the opinion of the latter that the theatre of the war 
should be transferred in that direction, even if it Avere ne- 
cessary to abandon New York. Clinton, in consequence, 
sent off heavy detachments to cooperate with him, and it 
became evident that the forces accumulating there would 
soon be able to trample under foot all the opposition that 
could be offered. Light armed vessels pushed up the various 
rivers of Virginia, plundering and desolating as they ad- 
vanced. One ascended the Potomac as far as Mount Vernon, 
and Lund Washington, the manager of the estate, wishing 
to save the buildings from conflagration, sent on board and 
offered the enemy refreshments. Washington when he 
heard of it expressed his regret, saying, in that lofty j^a- 
triotism which like the fire never ceased to burn : " I am 
very sorry to hear of your loss ; I am a little sorry to hear 
of my own ; but that which gives me most concern is, that 
you should go on board the enemy's vessels and furnish 
them with refreshments. It would have been a less painful 
circumstance to me to have heard, that, in consequence of 
your non-comj)liance with their request, they had burned 
my house and laid my plantation in ruins. You ought to 
have considered yourself as my representative, and should 
have reflected on the bad examjDle of communicating with 
the enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshments 
to them with a view to prevent a conflagration." This is 
not a public letter, designed to meet the public eye, but a 
private, confidential one, revealing the feelings of a heart in 
which love of country absorbed every other interest and 



378 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

emotion. It furnished, also, directions for future conduct. 
It was saying to his manager, rather than ever again hold 
any intercourse with the enemy, or make any terms with 
them, let them burn down my dwellings and lay waste my 
possessions. Indeed, in this very letter he says he expects 
such a result. "What perfect harmony there is between his 
secret thoughts and public acts in every thing respecting 
the welfare of his country. 

With what prospects he was about to enter on the sum- 
mer campaign may be gathered from the following entry 
made in his diary on the first of May : " Instead of having 
magazines filled with provisions, we have a scanty pittance 
scattered here and there in the different States ; instead of 
having our arsenals well supplied with military stores, they 
are poorly provided, and the workmen all leaving them; 
instead of having the various articles of field equipage in 
readiness to be delivered, the quarter-master general, as the 
dernier resort, according to his account, is now applying to 
the several States to provide those- things for their troops 
respectively ; instead of having a regular system of trans- 
portation established upon credit, or funds in the quarter- 
master's hands to defray the expenses of it, we have neither 
the one nor the other, and all that business being done by 
military impress, we are are daily and hourly oppressing 
the people, souring their tempers, and alienating their affec- 
tions; instead of having the regiments completed to the 
new establishment, which ought to have been done agree- 
ably to the requisitions of Congress, scarce any State in the 
Union has at this hour an eighth part of its quota in the 
field, and little prospect that I can see of ever getting more 
than half; in a word, instead of having everj^ thing in 
readiness to take the field, we have nothing ; and instead 
of having a glorious offensive campaign before us, we have 
a bewildered and gl'oomy defensive one, unless we should 
receive a powerful aid of ships, land troops, and money, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 379 

from our generous allies, and those at present are too con- 
tingent to build upon."* It required more than a prophet's 
ken to see light beyond this darkness, more than the spirit 
of man to breathe on such a chaos to bring or er and form 
out of it. But, " our generous allies" did fortunately come 
to our relief. A French frigate, with Count de Barras on 
board, arrived at Boston, bringing the cheering intelligence 
that troops and vessels of war were on the way, while a 
fleet, under Count de Grasse, designed to leave the West 
Indies for the American coast in July or August. 

About this time Washington wrote to Paul Jones, who 
had arrived at Philadelphia in February in the Ariel, with 
stores and clothing, which had long been expected, con- 
gratulating him on his glorious victory over the Serapis, and 
the highly complimentary report of the Board of Admiralty, 
that had been directed to inquire into the cause of the delay. 
His daring cruise along the coast of England, the conster- 
nation he had spread throughout the kingdom, and the gal- 
lant deeds by which he had " made the flag of America re- 
spected among the flags of other nations," were mentioned 
with the warmest approbation, and declared worthy of par- 
ticular reorard from Congress. 

The news of the arrival of fresh troops and additional 
vessels, and of more soon to be on our coast, spread new 
life through the American camp, and Washington resolved 
at once to open a vigorous campaign. The commanders of 
the allied armies met at Weathersfield, Connecticut, to deter- 
mine on the best plan to pursue. The French proposed to 
make a Southern campaign in Virginia, but Washington was 
of the firm opinion that a combined attack, by sea and land, 
should be made on New York. To the strong reasons which 
he gave, the former yielded, and immense preparations were 
set on foot. In the meantime, Washington watched with 

* Vide Sparks' Letters and Speeches of Washington, vol. viii. page 31. 



380 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the deepest anxiety the operations of Lafayette and Greene 
in the South, fondly hopmg that their successes would draw 
off large reinforcements from the army in New York, and 
thus materially weaken the garrison. Robert Morris, who 
had been appointed superintendent of finance, animated with 
the same spirit of self-devotion as Washington, sent forward 
voluntarily two thousand barrels of flour to the army, wliich 
he had purchased on his own credit, promising to follow 
it with a large sum of money, to be raised in the same 
way. 

In the meantime orders had been issued to the different 
sections of the army, and they closed rapidly in upon the 
Hudson, forming a junction at Peekskill. Washington, on 
the 2d of July, left his tents standing and his baggage be- 
hind, and Rapidly descended the river, hoping to take the 
enemy's garrison at Kingsbridge, and posts in the vicinity 
by surprise. The night before, Lincoln, with a strong de- 
tachment, passed down the stream with muffled oars, and 
landing a mile below Yonkers, pushed rapidly and silently 
over the hills in the darkness, unobserved by the British 
light-horse, and before daylight drew up near Kingsbridge. 
But the enemy's pickets, hearing the tread of the advancing 
columns, and beholding through the gloom the advance par- 
ties, opened a brisk fire. Washington, who had marched 
with the main army all night, was already on the slope of 
Valentine's Hill, when the sharp rattle of musketry was 
borne by on the night air. The order to march was in- 
stantly given, and the troops hastened forward to the sup- 
port of Lincoln. The enemy retired behind their works, 
and De Lancey, stationed on Harlem River, also aroused by 
the firing, hastily retreated before the Duke de Lauzun, ap- 
proaching by way of Hartford, could cut him off. Baffled 
in this attempt, Washington withdrew, and on the 4th of 
July, pitched his camp near Dobbs' Ferry. Two days after, 
the heads of the French columns appeared in view, with 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 381 

drums beating and colors flying, and were received with en- 
thusiasm by the whole army. 

Rochambeau had rapidly marched them from Newj^ort, 
in four divisions, by way of Hartford ; one regiment, that 
of Saintonge, never halting for a single day's rest the entire 
distance. As Washington's army lay in two lines, resting 
on tlie Hudson, the French took position on the left, ex- 
tending in a single line to the Bronx. As the national 
colors of the two armies swayed away in the breeze, joy 
and enthusiasm animated every heart, and a glorious issue 
to the summer campaign was confidently expected. 

But just in proportion as foreign aid was received, the 
colonies, especially those of New England, New York, Penn- 
sylvania, and New Jersey, grew more listless, and the re- 
cruits came in slowly. 

The mission of Laurens had been partially successful. 
France promised six millions of livres, and the king had 
pledged himself to negotiate a loan for the United States 
for ten millions, so that at the close of the year he would 
have furnished in all twenty-five millions. 

The two armies remained inactive in their encampment 
for a fortnight, but Washington kept in constant communi- 
cation with the Southern armies through a chain of ex- 
jDresses. On the 18th, he, and three French generals, crossed 
the river at Dobbs' Ferry, and escorted by a hundred and 
fifty men, ascended the hills that terminate the Pallisades, 
and spent the entire day in surveying through their glasses 
the portion of the enemy on the northern part of the island. 
Three days after, with five thousand men, he advanced to 
reconnoitre the works at Kingsbridge and cut off such of 
Delancey's light troops as might be found without the lines. 
The next day the army displayed on the heights opposite 
the enemy. The latter was wholly unaware of their ap- 
proach till their sudden apparition on the neighboring hills 
announced it. Washington and Bochambeau then took with 



382 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

them the engineers and reconnoitred the enemy's works. 
They afterward went over to Throg's Neck and measured 
the distance across to Long Island. The enemy discovered 
the i^arty and leveled some cannon shot at them, which, 
however, passed harmlessly by. Having finished the recon- 
noisance, the whole division retired, reaching the camp at 
midnight. 

It was impossible, of course, while the French fleet at 
Newport was blockaded, to effect any thing against New 
York. Washington, therefore, waited with the deepest 
anxiety the arrival of Count de Grasse. He dispatched to 
General Forman, at Monmouth, a letter to the Count, writ- 
ten in Rochambeau's cypher, with directions to keep cease- 
less watch on the heights, and the moment the fleet hove 
in sight to proceed on board and deliver it. 

In the meantime afiliirs in the South were assuming a 
more favorable aspect. Greene had handed Cornwallis over 
to Lafayette, and this gallant young commander,* on the 
very day that the French army, under Rochambeau, marched 
with flying colors into the camp of Washington at Dobbs' 
Ferry, fought the battle of Green Spring, in which he and 
Wayne showed themselves worthy of each other and the 
trust committed to them. The next night Cornwallis, re- 
treating before ''the hoy^^ whom he contemptuously declared 
could not " escape'^ him, passed James' river and afterward 
proceeded to Portsmouth. Here he received orders to take 
a position on the Chesapeake which could serve as the basis 
of future operations. Selecting Yorktown as the most se- 
cure and favorable, he moved his forces thither and began 



♦This noble stranger, when he arrived in Baltimore, found the troops badly 
clothed, discontented, and averse to returning South. Immediately borrowing ten 
thousand dollars on his own credit, he expended them in shirts, shoes, etc., for the 
soldiers, which so touched their hearts, that their munnurings and complaints 
gave place to enthusiasm and love, and they closed around him like veterans. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 383 

to entrench himself. By the 23(1 of August his army was 
concentrated and well secured. 

The constant success of his favorite and friend, gratified 
Washington exceedingly, who was afraid, in case of any dis- 
aster, that he would be blamed for putting so young and 
inexperienced a commander into the field against one of the 
best tacticians and most accomplished generals of the age. 

While Cornwallis was employed in erecting fortifications 
("Aug. 14th,) Washington received a letter from Count de 
Grasse, in St. Domingo, stating that he was about to .^.lU 
with his entire fleet, and some three thousand troops, for 
the Chesapeake, but could not remain later than the middle 
of October. 

After a brief consultation with Hochambeau, it was de- 
cided to be very doubtful whether New York could be re- 
duced within that period, and that Virginia furnished the 
only field promising immediate success. They resolved 
therefore to march thither without delay. Every effort, 
liowever, was made to deceive Sir Henry Clinton respecting 
the change of plan. Boats were gathered in the neighbor- 
hood of New York — ovens built and forage collected, as if 
in joreparation for a thorough investment of the city — false 
communications, sent for the purpose of falling into the 
hands of the enemy, corroborated this external evidence, 
and Clinton had no doubt that he was to be the object of 
attack. Washington took great pains to deceive his own 
troops also, knowing, as he said, " where the imposition 
does not completely take place at home it would never suf- 
ficiently succeed abroad." He informed Barras at Newport 
of his intentions, and requested him to sail immediately for 
the Chesapeake, but the latter had an enterprise of his own 
on foot against Newfoundland, besides, being senior in rank 
to the Count de Grasse, he did not wish to serve under him. 
At the earnest remonstrance, however, of both Washington 
and Rochambeau, he at last consented to go, though grum- 



384 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

lingly, saying it was the last expedition he would ever 
undertake. 

Every thing being ready, the combined armies struck 
their camps and turned the heads of their columns south- 
ivard. Twenty regiments, under Heath, were left to guard 
the Highlands. The American army crossed the Hudson on 
the 21st — the French commenced next day, completing the 
passage on the 25th. They proceeded by different routes 
to Trenton, where they formed a junction and moved rapidly 
southward, Washington and Ilochambeau here left the 
armies and rode on to Philadelphia, to provide vessels in 
which to transport the troops from Trenton to the head of 
the Elk. The city received the commander-in-chief with 
acclamations, and as he passed slowly through the streets 
the enthusiasm broke over all bounds, and the clamor of the 
multitude drowned even the clang of bells and thunder of 
artillery. 

But only boats enough could be procured to carry a single 
regiment, and the main army, under Lincoln, continued its 
march by land. Passing through Philadelphia it was fol- 
lowed by almost the entire population, who hailed them 
with exultant shouts and invoked blessings on their heads. 
Heavy rains came on, and through the wet and mire the 
weary suffering troops were kept to the top of their endur- 
ance. The French, well clad and well fed, suffered but 
little, while the destitute Americans presented a most piti- 
able spectacle. 

Washington had written to Lafayette announcing his de- 
parture, and requesting him to watch Cornwallis narrowly 
and not let him escape into the Carolinas. But the 2d of 
September arriving without hearing any thing from Count 
de Grasse, who was to have sailed on the 3d of August, or 
from Barras, who had notified him he should leave Newport 
on the 23d, Washington was " distressed heyond measure.'' 
The English fleet might occupy the Chesapeake first, and 




,^'>^^ '^v 









LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 387 

then the whole plan would fall through, while if even Bar- 
ras, who had much of the heavy siege artillery on board, 
was taken, the entire aspect of affairs might be changed. 
But three days after, the joyful intelligence was received of 
the safe arrival of the French admiral with twenty-six ships 
of the line and several frigates. The army was electrified, 
while the French officers were almost delirious with joy. 
The prospect now brightened, and the threads of fiite were 
evidently weaving a net for Cornwallis. 

The two armies had passed the Delaware before Clinton 
was aware of their destination. He then dispatched Arnold 
to make an irruption into Connecticut, and threatened an 
invasion of New Jersey and an attack on the Highlands to 
induce Washington to halt. But the latter could not be 
turned aside from the great object on which he had set his 
heart, and pressed resolutely and swiftly toward its accom- 
plishment. 

Cornwallis saw with alarm this sudden and tremendous 
combination designed to crush him, and gazed anxiously 
around for an avenue of escape. If he had been left to his 
own resources he probably would have made a desperate 
attempt to cleave his way through the defenses of Lafayette 
and escape to the Carolinas. From his known energy and 
skill thje success of such an effort might not have been so 
hopeless, but he received a dispatch from Sir Henry Clinton 
promising reinforcements both of troops and ships. Thus, 
the second time, did this commander lull into fatal security 
one of his lieutenants, and first in the case of Burgoyne, 
and now in that of Cornwallis, make certain an impending 
calamity. 

While the two armies were pressing southward Washing- 
ton turned aside, and, for the first time in six years, visited 
his home at Mount Vernon. 

In the meantime Count de Grasse was told that the British 
fleet, under Admiral Graves, who had been reinforced from 



388 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the West Indies, was in pursuit of him off the Chesapeake " 
He immediately put to sea and offered battle. An engage 
ment followed, but without any decisive result. The next 
day the English admiral, who had the weather-guage, de- 
clining to renew the action, De Grasse put back into the 
Chesapeake, where to his great joy he found Barras safely 
arrived. 

Washington, as soon as Rochambeau joined him, conti- 
nued his journey, and on arriving at Williamsburg heard of 
the return of the French fleet and the junction of De Bar- 
ras with it. Every thing now rested on the dispatch of the 
troops, and Washington's energies were roused to the* 
utmost. A single day's delay might ruin a great enterprise 
and defer indefinitely the independence of his country. He 
wanted an army that could fly, and wrote to General Lin- 
coln to hurry forward the '■'■ troo])s on the wings of speed. ^^ 
'^ Every day we now lose," said he, "is comparatively an age," 
He sent a messenger to the Count de Grasse for boats to trans- 
port the troops by water from Annapolis and the head of 
the Elk, but the French admiral had anticipated his wants, 
and he soon had the satisfaction of seeing the fleet of trans- 
ports move away to the scene of operations. He then 
requested an interview with De Grasse. Accompanied by 
Kochambeau, Knox, De Chastellux and Du Portail^ he em- 
barked in a small vessel and was received by the admiral 
with distinguished honors. The plan of attack was soon 
arranged, and Washington returned to land. In the mean- 
time Admiral Digby arrived at Sandy Hook with a reinforce- 
ment of vessels. De Grasse was no sooner informed of this 
than he resolved to put to sea and give the enemy battle. 
When this astounding intelligence was communicated to 
Washington he could not conceal his anxiety. He immedi- 
ately wrote a letter to the count, which he dispatched by 
Lafayette, who he knew would second its contents with all 
the influence he possessed. In it he de^^icted in the strong- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 389 

est language the fatal consequences that would follow such 
an abandonment of the land forces, declaring that it might 
result in no less a calamity than the total disbanding of the 
army. At all events, if he was afraid to be attacked in a 
stationary position, he must at least cruise in sight of the 
capes. But the true reason with De Grasse was, not that 
he feared to be attacked at anchor — he wished to perform a 
brilliant action in which the glory would belong to himself 
alone — in short, to capture or disperse the entire English 
fleet, and thus secure, by one grand coup, the overthrow of 
both the British armies, and put an end to the war. But 
for fear of the consequences that might result from disre- 
garding the firm remonstrance of both Washington and the 
French commanders, there is but little doubt that he would 
have insisted on executing his brilliant project, and thus 
overthrown the whole camj)aign, and put far off the day of 
peace. He, however, consented to remain ; though, it is 
said, that Washington, afraid to trust to his steadiness of 
purpose, sent Hamilton to him during the siege, who, 
passing in an open boat by night, had an interview with 
him to strengthen his determination. 

Cornwallis at this time was at the head of more than 
7000 troops, which were concentrated mostly in Yorktown, 
containing at that time about sixty houses. A few occupied 
Gloucester, on the opposite side of York river. 

The allied armies, nearly sixteen thousand strong, took 
up their line of march from Williamsburg on the 28th of 
September, at 5 o'clock in the morning, and advancing by 
different routes toward Yorktown, arrived in view of the ene- 
my's lines at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Cornwallis watched 
their approach through his glass with feelings of the most 
painful anxiety. At the first departure of De Grasse to give 
Admiral Graves battle, and afterward as the distant cannon- 
ide of the hostile fleets broke over the sea, hope reanimated 
lis heart. But now as he saw the French fleet quietly riding 

21 



390 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

at anchor in rear of his works, while this overwhelming 
force slowly and steadily took up its position in front, his 
heart sunk within him. Washington, on the other hand, as 
the declining sunbeams streamed over the long lines of glit- 
tering bayonets, and polished pieces of the French artillery, 
as, with strains of martial music, the steady columns one 
after another deployed on the field, and saw far away the 
peaks of the French ships of war, tipped with light, felt 
that the hour of triumph had come, and a glorious victory 
was in reserve for his country. 

' The next day the morning reveille beat cheerily through 
the allied camp, and soon the field presented a brilliant 
spectacle, as the French on the left and the Americans on 
the right advanced, and extending in a semicircle entirely 
round the enemy's works to the river on either side, com- 
pleted the investment. The British then retired from their 
advanced works, leaving two redoubis undamaged within 
cannon shot of their fortifications. The succeeding day the 
allied troops took possession of the neglected works, the 
French occupying the two redoubts, while the Americans 
broke ground for two new ones on the right. In the mean- 
time the heavy siege guns were hurried forward. On the 
morning of the 1st of October, the British seeing the re- 
doubts begun by the Americans, directed their artillery 
upon them, and a heavy cannonade was kept up all day and 
night. For three days and nights the deep reverberations 
of their guns shook the field, and swept far out over the 
deep, but not a shot replied. The stroke of the spade and 
pickaxe, as the earth was thrown up to form the redoubts — 
the confused hum of workmen erecting tents, and shops, 
and ovens, and unloading baggage and provisions— the 
heavy rumbling of artillery wagons as the long line of 
teams stretched over the uneven ground — and the stern or- 
ders of officers, were the only sounds that rose from the 
allied armies. In the centre, where they met as they swept 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 391 

up in a semicircle from tlie river, Rochambeau and Wash- 
ington stationed themselves, and here, too, was drawn up 
the artillery. 

By the 6 th of October, every thing was ready to com- 
mence the approaches, and, as an omen of good, Washing- 
ton that very day received the cheering intelligence of 
Greene's victory at Eiitaw Springs. The night came on 
dark and stormy, and amid the driving rain, unheard in the 
roar of the blast by the British sentinels, six regiments un- 
der the command of Lincoln, Clinton, and Wayne, opened 
the first parallel within five hundred and fifty yards of the 
British works on the right. The men were pushed vigor- 
ously all night, and by morning were well covered from the 
guns of the fortifications. Up to this time the French and 
Americans had lost in all but one officer and sixteen pri- 
vates, killed and wounded. The next two days the enemy 
fired but little, and the parallel was completed. On the 
afternoon of the 9th, th« French had established one bat- 
tery of four twelve pounders and six mortars and howitzers, 
and the Americans another of six, eighteen and twenty-four 
pounders, and four mortars and howitzers. Washington 
then rode up an eminence, and through his glass took a long 
and careful survey of the enemy's works and his own bat- 
teries. Apparently satisfied he closed his glass, and waved 
his hand as a signal. The next moment the French battery 
opened, and two hours after the American blended in its 
thunder on the right, and the first act of the tragedy com- 
menced. All night long thunder answered thunder, echoing 
over land and sea. 

The next day two more French batteries, mounting in all 
twenty heavy cannon and mortars, and two American, of 
six guns, making twenty-six pieces, were put in operation. 
Forty-six guns had now concentrated their destructive fire 
on the limited works of the British, and it rained a horriblo 
tempest of shot and shells upon Cornwallis. It was impos- 



392 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

sible to withstand such a tremendous fire, and the enemy 
were soon compelled to withdraw their guns from the em- 
brasures behind the merlins — and for the remainder of the 
day, without firing scarcely a single shot, they sat silent and 
sullen within their works, and took with calm sternness the 
terrible pelting. 

As night drew on and darkness slowly settled over the 
landscape, the scene became terrifically grand. The hea- 
vens were illuminated with red hot shot and blazing bombs, 
as they stooped on their fiery track into the doomed gar- 
rison, while the deep silence out of which the explosions 
came, added to the solemn terror of the spectacle. These 
messengers of destruction passed also over the town and 
dropped amid the shipping beyond, kindling into conflagra- 
tion four large transports and a forty -four gun ship.* "The 
ships were enwrapped in a torrent of fire, which spreading 
with vivid brightness among the combustible rigging, and 
running with amazing rapidity to the tops of the several 
masts, while all around was thunder and lightning from our 
numerous cannon and mortars, and in the darkness of night 
presented one of the most sublime and magnificent specta- 
cles which can be imagined. Some of our shells overreach- 
ing the town were seen to fall into the river, and bursting, 
threw up columns of water, like the spouting monsters of 
the deep."! 

The firing continued all the next day, (the 11th) and at 
night a second parallel was commenced within three hun- 
dred yards of the enemy's works, and in two days was 
nearly completed. 

Cornwallis still held two redoubts, M'hich stood in advance 
of his works on the left, and from which he could enfilade 
this second parallel. After a brief consultation it was re- 
solved, therefore, to storm them. To incite the rivalry of 

* The Obtron. t Vid« Thatcher'i Mait*i7 Journal. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 393 

the troops, the storming of one was intrusted to the French, 
under Baron de Viomenil, and the other to the Americans, 
under Lafiiyette. The French baron, while preparing for 
the assault, hinted to Lafayette that he was rather unfortu- 
nate in his command, as the American troops were not so 
reliable as French in work of this kind. Lafayette, who 
had come to look on the Americans as peculiarly belonging 
to him, was stung by the remark, but quietly replied, " we 
shall see." Toward evening the storming columns were 
drawn up and marched to their respective positions. Two 
shells were to be the signal to advance. The shell from the 
American battery rose first, but it had scarcely reached the 
zenith in its blazing track, before, in another direction, that 
of the French mounted the heavens. The next moment 
the loud shout " forward" rang along the ranks. Colonel 
Hamilton led the van of the Americans, and carried away 
by his boiling courage, strode in advance of his men, and 
scorning to wait till the abatis was removed, mounted over 
it, and on the parapet beyond, with but three men at his 
side. Waving his sword to his brave followers crowding 
fiercely after him, with leveled bayonets, he shouted ''On! 
on .'" and leaped into the ditch. A thrilling " huzza /" re- 
plied, and soon the enemy were flying in every direction. 
Not a shot had been fired — the cold steel had finished the 
work, and in nine minutes' time. As the loud and ringing 
cheer rose on the evening air, the delighted Lafayette turned 
to the other redoubt, and knowing hy the sharp firing that 
it was not yet carried, and remembering the sneer of Vio- 
menil, dispatched a messenger to that officer, saying that 
his own redoubt was carried, and asking if he needed any 
help. " Tell Lafayette," proudly replied the Baron, " that 
my redoubt will be carried in five minutes." He made good 
his word, and soon cheer answered cheer, and the French 
and American flags waved a salutation to each other across 
the intervening space. The loss of the Americans was only 



394 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

sixty-five killed and wounded, while that of the French 
was over a hundred. The latter stopped to remove the 

abatis. 

The possession of these redoubts were of the utmost im- 
portance, for, besides being relieved from their flank fire, 
Washington with batteries erected there could enfilade the 
whole English line. 

The girdle of tire was now narrowing to a fatal interval, 
and even desperate measures must be resorted to, or the 
trao-edy would close. Cornwallis therefore determined, it is 
said, to leave his sick and baggage behind, and crossing 
over to Gloucester, cut up by an unexpected, impetuous as- 
sault, the French and American troops stationed there — 
mount what he could of his infantry on the horses of the 
Duke's Legion and others which he might be able to seize, 
and fleeing through Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jer- 
sey, gain New York. This absurd attempt, if ever really 
intended, was cut short by a sudden storm of wind and rain, 
which rendered the passage of the river impracticable. 

Toward morning of this same night, Cornwallis made a 
sortie with 800 men on the incomplete French batteries, 
and carried them, but the Due de Chastellux advancing to 
their support, drove the assailants back. The latter suc- 
ceeded in spiking four cannon, but having time to do it only 
by ramming the points of their bayonets into the touch- 
holes and then breaking them off, the pieces were soon ren- 
dered serviceable again. At daylight new batteries in the 
second parallel were opened, when there was not a spot 
within the town unexposed to the desolating fire of the be- 
siegers. The buildings were pierced like a honey-comb — 
the earth rose m furrows and mounds on every side as the 
heavy shot and shells ploughed through, while carcases of 
men and horses were strewn amid the broken artillery car 
riages and wrecks of the works. In short, the camp was 
completely uncovered, and cannon balls searched every part 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 395 

of it. The English troojos stood in still despair and let the 
iron storm beat on them. Cornwallis had hoped for succor 
to the last, but this useless sacrifice of his men was too 
dreadful to be longer endured, and at 10 o'clock the loud 
beat of the charaade was heard in the intervals of the explo- 
sions of cannon, and the firing ceased. Cornwallis then sent 
a flag of truce requesting a cessation of hostilities for twenty- 
four hours, to arrange the terms of capitulation. To this 
Washington would not consent, fearing that the arrival of 
the English fleet in the meantime might alter the aspect of 
affairs, and allowed him but two hours in which to transmit 
his proposals. A rough draft was sent, and the next day 
the terms of capitulation were agreed upon. On the 18th, 
the garrison, with colors cased and playing a melancholy 
march, moved slowly out of their dilapidated works. The 
French and American armies were drawn up on opposite 
sides of the road, with Rochambeau and Washington, splen- 
didly mounted, at the respective heads of the columns, while 
the fields around were black with thousands of spectators, 
who had heard of the victory, and flocked hither to see the 
army and the man who had so long been the terror of the 
country. Not a sound broke the deep silence that had set- 
tled on the field save the measured tread of the slowly 
advancing thousands and the mournful air of their bands. 
Cornwallis, wishing to be spared the mortification of the 
scene, feigned sickness and was allowed to remain in his 
quarters. In his absence. General O'Harra advanced and 
oflered the sword of his commander to Washington. The 
latter directed him to Lincoln, who so recently had been 
compelled to surrender his own at Charleston. The latter 
received and immediately returned it to the officer. Twenty- 
eight British captains then advanced with sad countenances 
and surrendered the twenty-eight flags of the army. En- 
sign Wilson, only eighteen years of age, was appointed to 
receive them. The whole army then laid down their arms, 



396 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and the humiliating ceremony was over. Over seven thou- 
sand men, with their arms, seventy-five brass and one hun- 
dred and sixty iron cannon, twenty-eight standards, with 
all the ammunition and stores, and the entire shipping, were 
the fruits of this victory. 

The next day was the Sabbath, and "Washington ordered 
divine service in each of the brigades of the American army. 

The news of this glorious victory flew like lightning over 
the land. Washington dispatched at once one of his aids* 
to Congress, then sitting in Philadelphia. The swift rider 
dashed on a gallop into the city at midnight — the clatter of 
his horse's hoofs the only sound that broke the silence of 
the deserted streets, as he pressed straight for the house of 
McKean, then president of Congress. Thundering at the 
door as though he would force an entrance, he roused the 
sleeping president, saying, "CornwaUis is taken!"' The 
watchmen caught the words, and when they called " one 
o'clock,'' they added, "and Cornwdllis is taken!" As they 
moved slowly on their nightly rounds, windows were flung 
open and eager countenances were seen scanning the streets. 
A hum, like that of an awakening hive, immediately per- 
vaded the city. The inhabitants went pouring into the 
streets, while shout after shout rose on the midnight air. 
The old bellman was roused from his slumbers, and soon 
the iron tongue of the bell at the state -house rung out as 
of old, "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land to all 
THE inhabitants THEREOF." The dawu was greeted with the 
booming of cannon ; and salvos of artillery, and shouts of 
joy, and tears of thanksgiving, accompanied the glad news 
as it traveled exultingly over the land. It is impossible, at 
this day, to conceive the wild, ecstatic joy with which it 
was received. 

Not so in England. It had been sent by a French frigate, 

* Colonel Tilghman. „ 



r 




WASUINGTON AND LEE AT MONMOUTH. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 399 

and as if the winds and waves were anxious to waft it on, 
the vessel reached France in eighteen days. Lord Germain, 
Secretary of the American department, received it in Lon- 
don, on Sunday the 25th of November, just two days before 
Parliament was to meet. Lord Walsingham, who had been 
selected to second the address in the house of Peers on the 
following Tuesday, happened to be present when the official 
intelligence arrived. Lord Germain immediately called a 
hackney coach, and taking Lord Walsingham with him, pro- 
ceeded to Lord Stormount's in Portland Place. The three 
then hastened to the Lord Chancellor's, when, after a brief 
consultation, they decided to go at once and present the in- 
telligence to Lord North in person. They reached his house 
between one and two o'clock. The dreadful tidings com- 
pletely unmanned the stern prime minister. When asked, 
afterward, how he took it. Lord Germain replied, "As he 
would a ball in his breast. For he opened his arms, exclaim- 
ing wildly, as he paced up and down the apartment during 
a few minutes, ' Oh, God, it is all over!' As the full extent 
of the catastrophe continued to press on him, he could only 
repeat, ' Oh, God, it is all over — it is all over !' " In it he 
saw the hand-writing on the wall, and knew that the hour 
of his overthrow had come. At length he became more 
composed, and the four ministers began to discuss the mat- 
ter seriously. They concluded it would be impossible to 
prorogue Parliament for a few days, and the first thing to 
be attended to, therefore, was the alteration of the King's 
speech,- which had already been prepared. Lord Germain 
then sent a dispatch to the king, George TIL, at Kew. Sir 
N. W. Wraxall, who dined with Lord Germain that day, 
says that the first news was publicly communicated at the 
table. All wore anxious to hear how the king bore it, 
when Lord Germain read aloud his reply. It was calm 
and composed, bearing no marks of agitation, except, as 
Lord Germain remarked, "I observe that the king has 



400 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

omitted to mark the hour and minute of his writing with 
his usual j)recision.'* 

The opening of ParHament was the signal for the on- 
slaught of the ojJiDOsition. This humiliation of the British 
arms furnished them the occasion and material for the most 
terrible invective. Fox, and Burke, and the younger Pitt, 
came down with the swoop of the eagle on Lord North. 
The stern minister, however, bore j)roudly up for awhile 
against the storm, but was at last compelled to bow before 
its force. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 401 



CHAPTER Xin. 

Sickness and Death of young Custia — Departure of the French Fleet — Destination 
of *^he '^roops — Circular Letter to the States — Lincoln Secretary of War— Greene 
aroimd onarleston — Head-quarters at Newburgh — The Temple— Case of Captain 
Huddy and Captain Asgill — Defeat of the English Ministry — Proposal to make 
Washington King — Settlement of the Case of young Asgill — Meeting of French 
and American Troops at King's Ferry — Destitution of the Officers — Washing- 
ton's Views on the Subject — " Newburgh Addresses" — Proclamation of Peace^ 
Washington addresses a Circular Letter to the States — Visits Northern Battle 
Fields — Disbanding of the Army — Evacuation of New York — Farewell to the 
Officers — Washington Surrenders his Commission to Congress — His Feelings on 
laying down Power — Visits his Land West — Improves his Farm — Interview 
with Lafayette, and Letter to him after his Departure — His Habits of Life — 
Inefficiency of Congress — Washington's Views and Feelings respecting it — Soci- 
ety of the Cincinnati — Convention called to form a Constitution — Washington 
chosen President — The Constitution — Washington elected First President of tho 
United States. 

While Yorktown was yet ringing to the acclamations of 
the allied armies, Washington received a blow which made 
him for a time forget even the glorious victory which he 
had achieved. The only child of his wife, and beloved by 
him like an own son, had been from the commencement of 
the war his aid-de-camp. The mother's heart was wrapped 
up in that youth, and often in battle his safety lay nearer 
the father's heart than his own. He rode by the chieftain's 
side during the siege of Yorktown, and saw with pride and 
exultation the British army march forth and lay down its 
arms. But this victor}^ cost him his life. While the balls 
of the allied troops were demolishing the enemy's entrench- 
ments without the camp, fever was desolating frightfully 
within. To this disease young Custis fell a victim. Imme- 
diately after he was attacked by it, Washington directed 
him to be removed to Eltham in New Kent, whither he was 
accompanied by his mother and Dr. Craik, the old family 
physician. The disease made frightful progress, and it was 
soon apparent that nothing could save him. A messenger 



402 LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 

was immediately dispatched to Yorktown with the melan- 
choly tidings. He arrived in the night. Instantly mount- 
ing his horse, taking with him but one officer, Washington 
started for the sick-bed of the sufferer. The two solitary 
horsemen galloped silently and swiftly forward, and just as 
day was breaking, reached the house where the young aid 
lay dying. Summoning Dr. Craik, Washington eagerly asked, 
*'Is there any hope V^ The doctor shook his head. He im- 
mediately retired into a private room where his wife joined 
him, and the two remained for a long time closeted toge- 
ther. Washington, with the tears of grief still depicted on 
his countenance, then remounted his horse and rode back 
to camp. 

He had been exceedingly anxious to enlist the Count 
de Grasse in an expedition against Charleston, but the or- 
ders of the latter forbade his compliance. An attempt to 
obtain the use of the troops for nearer service was equally 
unsuccessful. Finding the fleet was about to set sail, Wash- 
ington went on board the admiral's vessel to pay his re- 
spects and express his thanks to the Count, to whom also 
he presented two superb horses. 

The latter having at length re-embarked that portion of 
the troops commanded by the Marquis St. Simon, sailed for 
the West Indies. Two thousand Continentals under St. Clair 
were dispatched to the aid of Greene in the South, while 
the remainder, under Lincoln, embracing those north of 
Pennsylvania, marched to their winter quarters in New Jer- 
sey — the light troops of New York joining their respective 
regiments in the Highlands. The French under Rocham 
beau remained in Virginia, the head-quarters of the latter 
being at Williamsburg. The prisoners being marched 'to 
Winchester, Virginia and Fredericktown, Maryland, Lord 
Cornwallis and the principal British officers went on parole 
to New York. Washington repaired to Philadelphia to con 
suit with Congress on the measures necessary to be adopted 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 403 

for the next campaign. Lafayette in the meantime and 
many other French officers, had obtained leave to return to 
France, carrying back with them the warmest feelings of 
love and admiration for Washington. 

Notwithstanding the disasters that had befallen the Bri- 
tish army, there were no indications that the government 
intended to relax its efforts to reduce the colonies. But 
fearing such would be the impression of the different States, 
causing them to put forth less energy, Washington, in con- 
sultation with Congress, issued two circular letters to them — 
one asking for supplies, and the other stating the condition 
and prospects of the army. Said he, " The broken and per- 
plexed state of the enemy's affairs, and the successes of the 
last campaign on our part, ought to be a powerful incitement 
to vigorous preparation for the next. Unless we strenuously 
exert ourselves to profit by these successes, we shall not 
only lose all the solid advantages that might be derived 
from them, but we shall become contemptible in our own 
eyes, in the eyes of our enemy, in the opinion of posterity, 
and even in the estimation of the whole world, which will 
consider us a nation unworthy of prosperity, because we 
know not how to make a right use of it." Notwithstanding 
all his efforts, however, there was a general belief that the 
war was virtually over. Still the government did not act 
on this basis. Money was sought from France, General 
Lincoln was appointed Secretary of War to give greater 
energy and efficiency to that department, and every effort 
made to put the nation in a posture to renew hostilities the 
coming spring. 

While these events were transpiring at Philadelphia, 
Greene, with his suffering, half clad army, was gathering 
closer and closer round the enemy in Charleston. The Bri- 
tish general, however, maintained his position till the next 
autumn, when, despairing of help, he at length agreed to 
evacuate the place and on the 14:th of December marched 



404 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

his troops to the ships, pursued close by the column of 
Wayne. A short time previous to this, the gallant Laurens 
was killed in resisting a foraging party. 

Washington having spent the winter in constant and ar- 
duous correspondence, repaired in the middle of April to the 
camp at Morristown, and a few days after continued his 
journey, and took up his quarters at Newburgh.* 

An event happened at this time which exasperated the 
inhabitants of the colonies greatly, and filled Washington 
with the deepest indignation. Captain Huddy, commanding 
a small detachment in Monmouth county, New Jersey, was 
seized by a party of refugees and taken to New York. A 
few days after, he was dragged from prison, and carried by 
Captain Lippincott, at the head of a band of refugees, to 
Middletown, and there hung. This gallant officer, unmoved 
by the brutality and ribaldry of his enemies, met his fate 
with perfect composure. Washington, acting under the de- 
cision of a Council of War, immediately wrote to Sir Henry 
Clinton, demanding that Lippincott should be given up. 
The British general refusing to comply with the demand, it 
was determined to execute an English prisoner of equal 
rank. Lots being drawn by the officers, a young man, only 
nineteen years of age, named Captain Asgill, was designated 
as the victim. The extreme youth of this officer rendered 
it still more painful for Washington to adhere to his original 
determination. Previous to his ascertaining who was to be 
the sufferer he had said, ''Keenly wounded as my feelings will 
he, at the deplorable destiny of the unhappy victim, no gleam of 
hope can arise to him hut from the conduct of the enemy them- 
selves." And again, "I will receive no application, nor 
answer any letter on the subject, which does not inform me 
that ample satisfaction is made for the death of Captain 
Huddy on the perpetrators of that horrid deed." 

• The building he occupied has been retained in ita original Btate, and is now 
Owned by the State of New York, and made the depository of relics of the Revolution. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 405 

In the meantime Sir Guy Carleton arrived in New York 
to assume the command in place of Clinton. Previous to 
his departure great changes had taken place in the aspect 
of affairs in Parliament. On the 2d of March, General 
Conway introduced a resolution, declaring that a further 
prosecution of the war in America for the purpose of sub- 
duing the colonies was impracticable. The Ministerial party 
endeavored to dispose of this hy a motion to adjourn. The 
House divided, when the ministry was found to be in a mi- 
nority of nineteen. Conway then moved that an address, 
based on that resolution, be. presented to his Majesty. The 
die was cast. The news spread like the wind, and in a 
short time the city was in a state of intense excitement. 
Lord Stormount, anticipating some public demonstration, 
" wrote to the lord mayor and aldermen to prevent, if pos- 
sible, illuminations in the city." They were accordingly 
prevented ; but in the gallery on the top of the Monument 
there blazed more than a hundred lamps.* Long and loud 
acclamations rent the air, announcing to Lord North that 
the hour of his overthrow had come. The different ambas 
sadors from the various courts of Europe immediately hur- 
ried off expresses to announce the momentous news. The 
king's reply to the address was equivocal, but to every one 
acquainted with the state of affliirs it was evident that the 
opposition had gained a permanent ascendency. On the 
20th, Lord Surrey made a formal motion respecting the re- 
moval of ministers. Lord North interrupted him, -saying 
that the ministry was about to resign their duties.f As a 
last desperate expedient to retain their places, the Cabinet 

* Vide Journal and Letters of Curwen, by George Atkinson Ward, page 336. 

t It was on " this occasion Lord Surrey happened to espy Arnold in the House, 
and sent him a message to depart, threatening, in case of refusal, to move for 
breaking up the gallery ; to which the general answered, that he was introduced 
there by a member ; to which Lord Surrey replied, he might, under that condition, 
remain, if he would promise never to enter it a^rain — with which General Arnold 
complied." — Vide Curwen^s Journal and Letters by Mr. Ward. 



406 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

proposed a dissolution of Parliament. This was defeated 
by Thurlowe, the Lord High Chancellor, who, with a virtue 
that honored him more than his office, refused to affix the 
seals to such an order. 

But as the prospect of peace brightened, the discontent 
and murmurs of the troops increased. A long season of 
idleness had given them time to brood over and discuss 
their grievances, while they saw that the termination of the 
war would be the signal of their dispersion and the end of 
their power. Moreover, the independence of the country 
naturally begat questions and discussions respecting the 
form of government to be adopted. They had not origin- 
ally taken up arms against a monarchy, but against its op- 
pressive acts. The English government was considered by 
many of the wisest men of the day to be a model one, and 
they wished only to see its like adopted by their country 
when its liberty was once secured. Besides, the most tho- 
rough republicans had seen quite enough of the government 
of a Congress. It had lost the respect of both civilians and 
officers. It was clear, therefore, that a head was needed. 
But this head must be invested with power sufficient to con- 
trol and overrule Congress to a great extent, or it would not 
possess the efficiency required to coerce obedience. Circum- 
stances, of course, indicated Washington as that head, and 
the next question naturally arose — under what title should 
he govern ? The officers around Newburgh called meeting 
after meeting, and warm and eager discussions evinced the 
deep interest the army took in the form of government that 
should be adopted. At length an old and respected officer, 
Colonel Nicola, was empowered to sound Washington on this 
delicate point. He, therefore, addressed him a letter, in 
which, after going over the points referred to above, he, in 
a circuitous manner, at length succeeded in communicating 
the plain fact, that the army wished him to be "Kma." 
This letter took Washington by surprise. An unexpected 



LIFE OF WASHINaTON. 407 

danger had arisen before liim — an abyss suddenly opened at 
his very feet. The army was actually assuming the control 
of the government — the military jDower appointing the 
civil. And, more than this, disgusted with the working of 
republican institutions, it was thinking seriously of setting 
up a king. Washington seemed doomed ever to wrestle 
with evils. No sooner did one disappear before his wisdom 
or strength, than from an unexpected quarter another rose 
to fill him with grief and oppress him with anxiety. But 
lie never seemed to despond, and nothing exhibits the 
grandeur of his character more than the promptness and 
courage with which he met and overcame every new form 
of danger. But not in the darkest hour of his countrj^— 
not in the midst of his starving, naked, dying troops — not 
when overborne and scattered by the enemy — under no 
blow with Avhicli fate had yet smitten him, did his heart so 
sink as under the revelation made in this letter. What ! 
become a king over a free people who had struggled so 
nobly for their freedom — dash to earth the hopes which had 
borne them up in the midst of such trials and suiTerings, 
and wrong so deeply human faith, and confidence, and 
rights, as turn traitor at last ? To hint that he was capable 
of such turpitude, was striking at the very soul of honor. 
Pride, grief, resentment, anxiety, commingled and intense, 
swelled his bosom. " Sir," said he, in reply, " with a mix- 
ture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read with 
attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. 
Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has 
given me more painful sensations than your information of 
there being such ideas existing in the army as you have 
expressed, and as I must view with abhorrence and repre- 
hend with severity. For the j^resent the communication of 
them will rest in my oAvn bosom, unless some further agita- 
tion of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary. 

" I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct 

22 



408 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

could have given encouragement to an address, wliich to me 
seems big with the greatest mischiefs that can befall my 
country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, 
you could not have found a person to whom your schemes 
are more disagreeable. At the same time, in justice to my 
own feelings, I must add, that no man possesses a more sin- 
cere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do, 
and as far as my powers and influence in a constitu- 
tional way extend, they shall be employed to the utmost of 
my abilities to effect it, should there be occasion. Let me 
conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your country, 
concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to ban- 
ish those thoughts from your mind, and never communicate 
as from yourself or any one else a sentiment of the like 
nature." 

Every line of this letter bears indications of a powerful 
internal struggle — a struggle to maintain that self-compo- 
sure and moderation he was wont to exhibit, but which, un- 
der this new evil, threatened to forsake him. Incomparable 
man ! intrenched so deeply in virtue that temptations and 
the arrows of misfortune rebound from his bosom without 
even leaving the mark of their contact. Yet this act seems 
so in keeping with Washington's whole character and con- 
duct, that it hardly strikes us as extraordinary. Virtues we 
never expect to find in others we should be surprised not to 
see exhibited in him. His actions are all so elevated above 
.the common track of life, that it would disappoint us to find 
any one of them tainted with the imperfections of our 
lower sphere. So harmonious is his character in every part, 
that its colossal proportions can be understood only by com- 
paring him in detail with other men in similar circumstances. 

The case of young Asgill continued to trouble Washington 
exceedingly, and his whole correspondence shows a constant 
and severe struggle between his feelings and his sense of 
duty. Sir Guy Carleton finding, however, that he was im- 




i^<'^^i/V, 



MOI. L PITCnKR AT MONMOUTir. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 411 

movable in his determination to sacrifice the young man 
unless justice was done to Lippincott, had the latter arrested 
and tried by court martial. It appeared, or was made to 
appear on trial, that the latter acted under the authority of 
the '^ Board of Directors of the Associated Loyalists,''^ and 
hence was not personally responsible. This transfer of guilt 
from the individual to a body or corporation has always 
been a favorite method to escape responsibility. Of course, 
the Board of Directors could not be hung — they could only 
be disbanded, which was done — a task not demanding very 
great sacrifice on the part of Sir Guy Carleton, as he had in 
his pocket the power to make a treaty of peace with the 
colonies. This manoeuvre, however, complicated the mat- 
ter so much that Washington referred it again to Congress, 
which seemed, by its tardiness, willing to let death claim its 
victim in the ordinary way. Washington wrote bitterly of 
this neglect of Congress, declaring that his own treatment 
of that body did not warrant it, and justifies himself in 
making the complaint, by asking, " When no notice is taken 
of my application ; when measures I might otherwise adopt 
are suspended — when my own feelings are wounded, and 
others are perhaps suffering by the delay, how is it possible 
for me to forbear expressing my disquietude .^" 

In the meantime, young Asgill's mother, crushed to the 
earth by the dreadful fate impending over her only son, a 
mere boy in years, appealed, with all a- mother's tenderness 
and earnestness, to the French ministry to intercede with 
Washington to spare his life. The letter was shown to the 
king and queen, who were so affected by its pathetic prayer, 
that they directed the Count de Vergennes to request, as a 
favor to France, that Captain Asgill might be set at liberty. 
This spurred up the tardy Congress to action, and the young 
man was restored to his family. 

Sir Guy Carloton at length, in August, gave notice that 
preliminaries for a treaty of peace had begun at Paris. The 



412 LIFE OF WASHINGTON". 

war was now closed, and the French troops marched north 
previous to their embarkation for France. Washington, to 
show a mark of respect to his allies, took his army down 
the river to meet them at King's Ferry. He ordered all the 
troops to be clad and equipped with the clothing and arms 
furnished by France, and those taken from the English ma- 
gazines at Yorktown, which the French had generously sur- 
rendered to the suffering Americans, and drawn up in two 
opposite lines some distance apart. Between these the en- 
tire French army passed, with colors flying — the Americans 
playing the whole time a French march. These gallant 
soldiers, with the sensitiveness peculiar to their race, felt 
this expression of gratitude and compliment deeply, and 
made the heavens ring with their enthusiastic acclamations. 
The two armies encamped on and near Verplanck's Point 
for a month, when the French departed for Boston, and the 
Americans returned to Newburgh. But just as the evils of 
war were disappearing, more threatening danger appeared 
in the attitude of the army. The prospect of relief and of 
prosperity to the country did not better their condition, 
much less forbode any good in the future. At the very 
time officers and men were entertaining their French allies 
at Verplanck's Point, they were in a state of the greatest 
destitution. At Yorktown, old Baron Steuben had to sell 
his horse in order to raise funds with which to give a dinner 
to the British officers ; and in the last meeting of the troops 
of the two nations, the American officers were filled with 
mortification that they were unable to return the civilities 
of the French. Their families were suffering at home, 
while they had not the means to pay for their own daily 
expenses. Says Washington, in writing to the Secretary of 
War, " Only conceive then the mortification they must 
suffer (even the general officers) when they cannot invite a 
French officer, a visiting friend, or a traveling acquaint 
ance, to a better repast than bad whisky (and not always 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 413 

tliat) and a bit of beef, without vegetables, will afford 
them." In speaking of the result of neglecting to provide 
for the army, he says, with that clear foresight which at 
times almost amounts to the spirit of prophecy, " Under 
present circumstances, when I see such a number of men 
goaded by a thousand stings of reflection on the past and of 
anticipation on the future, about to be turned on the world, 
soured by penury and by what they call the ingratitude of 
the public, involved in debts, without one farthing of money 
to carry them home, after having spent fne flower of their 
days, and many of them their patrimonies, in establishing 
the freedom and independence of their country, and suffered 
every thing that human nature is capable of enduring on 
this side of death. I repeat it, when I consider these irri- 
tating circumstances, without one thing to soothe their feel- 
ings or dispel the gloomy prospects, I cannot avoid appre- 
hending that a train of evils will follow, of a very serious 
and distressing nature. * * I wish not to heighten the 
shades of the picture so far as the reality would justify in 
doing it — I could give anecdotes of patriotism and distress 
which have scarcely ever been paralleled, never surpassed 
in the history of mankind. But you may rely upon it, the 
patience and long suffering of this army are almost exhausted^ 
and that there never was so great a spirit of discontent as 
at present. While in the field I think it may be kept from 
breaking into acts of outrage ; but when we retire into win- 
ter quarters, unless the storm is previously dissipated, I can 
not be at ease respecting the consequences. It is high time 
for a peace." With such words on his lips, and such gloomy 
thoughts filling his heart, Washington had now marched his 
army into winter quarters, and sat down to wait the result: 
He wished to visit Mount Vernon, but dared not leave the 
army. As in the field of battle, so in every place where 
danger thickened, he interposed his person and influence to 
save his country. His predictions proved true ; the army 



414 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

soon became unsettled, and from discontent proceeded to 
loud murmurs and open menaces. It addressed Congress, 
but its appeals were met with an unsatisfactory response, 
and there now seemed no means left of obtaining justice 
except their swords. 

At length, March 10th, an anonymous notification of a 
meeting of the officers at the Temple* appeared, followed 
by a spirited and stirring address, written, as it afterward 
appeared, by Major, subsequently General Armstrong. This 
address was well calculated to arouse the army, already in a 
highly inflammable state. The author, after speaking of 
the disappointment every one had felt at the indifference of 
government to the wants and rights of the army, saying 
that " faith has its limits as well as its temper, and there 
are points beyond which neither can be stretched without 
sinking into cowardice or plunging into credulity," takes a 
survey of the past, and in a series of startling questions 
asks how their services have been rewarded — their toils and 
sufferings received. Rousing their indignation by the re- 
capitulation of their wrongs, and the contemptuous treat- 
ment of their humble petitions, he exclaims — " If this then 
be your treatment, while the swords you wear are necessary 
for the defense of America, what have you to expect from 
peace, when your voice shall sink and your strength dissi- 
pate by division ; when those very swords, the instruments 
and companions of your glory, shall be taken from your 
sides, and no remaining mark of military distinction left 
but your wants, infirmities and scars ? Can 3'Ou then con- 
sent to be the only sufferers by this revolution, and retiring 
from the field, grow old in poverty, WTetchedness and coii- 



•* A large log building had been erected on the camp-ground in which to hold 
meetings of the officers. It was to be dedicated the " Temple of Virtue," by a 
ball, which AVashington opened with the beautiful Mrs. Warren as a partner. But 
after the ball broke up, the officers spent the remainder of the night in such scenes 
of revelry and riot that it was called simply the " Temple." 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 415 

tempt ? Can you consent to wade through the vile mire of 
dependency, and owe thi3 miserable remnant of that life to 
charity which has hitherto been spent in honor ? If you 
can — go, and carry with you the jests of Tories and the scorn 
of Whigs, the ridicule, and what is worse, the pity of the world! 
Go, starve, and be forgotten /" But if they revolt at this, 
and would " oppose tyranny under whatever garb it may 
assume," he says, " awake, attend to your situation, and re- 
dress yourselves! If the present moment be lost, every 
future effort is in vain ; and your threats then will be empty 
as your entreaties now." He bids them assume a bolder 
tone — appoint men to draw uji not a " memorial," but a 
*' last remonstrance^^ — tell Congress that with them rest the 
momentous question of war or peace between it and the 
army — that nothing but redress shall prevail on them to 
abandon their arms ; and if the war, not yet settled, should 
be protracted, they would, in case their remonstrance was 
unheeded, " leave the government to its fate," and " retire 
to some unsettled country to smile in turn, and mock when 
their fear cometh on." Such language and sentiments fell 
like coals oftfire on the wronged and embittered hearts of 
the troops, and portended a fearful explosion. Tlie crisis 
that Washington foretold had arrived, but Heaven enabled 
him to meet it. He immediately issued an order, calm in 
its tone and without severity in its language, simply post- 
poning the meeting till next Saturday.* By this sagacious 
movement he disarmed opposition and gained time. He 
spent the interval in personal conversations with the prin- 
cipal officers, and by his great influence, wise counsel and 
promises, allayed the agitation, so that, before the day of 
meeting, he had undone all the mischief caused by the 
address. 

The TemjDle was thronged with officers long before the 

* This caused another address more moderate in its tone. These are known 
as the famous Nevvburgh Addresses. 



416 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

hour appointed for assembling had arrived. Washington, 
accompanied bj his escort, rode over from Newburgh, some 
three miles distant, and dismounting at the door, walked 
slowly and solemnly to the raised platform at the farther 
end. The house was still as the grave, and every eye was 
bent on their beloved commander, who, like a pillar of fire, 
had moved before them in the long night of their suffer- 
ings. Taking out his spectacles, he pleasantly remarked, 
•' You see, gentlemen, I have grown blind as well as gray in 
your service.'^ This simple expression, falling as it did on 
hearts strung to the highest tension, thrilled like an electric 
spark through the assembly. As he glanced over the throng 
of officers, and saw the veterans on whom he had so often 
called, and not in vain, in the hour of battle and in the day 
of danger, he felt sure of support and of success. 

The address, calm, kind, conciliating and sympathetic, 
was listened to with breathless interest. When it was fin- 
ished, Washington, without adding another word, passed 
out and remounted his horse. Knox immediately arose 
and moved that the thanks of the officers be rendered to 
the commander-in-chief for his address, " and tf assure him 
that the officers reciprocate his affectionate expressions with 
the greatest sincerity of which the human heart is capable." 
A committee was appointed to draft resolutions, which re- 
ported in a half an hour, declaring " that no circumstance 
of distress or danger shall induce a conduct that might tend 
to sully the reputation which they had acquired at the price 
of their blood and eight years' service." It was also re- 
solved, that " the officers of the army view with abhorrence 
and reject with disdain the infamous propositions contained 
in a late anonymous address," etc. The conspiracy was ex- 
jDloded, the crisis past, and the danger over. 

Soon after the news of a preliminary treaty of peace, 
signed at Paris, being received, Washington issued an order 
fixing the 19th of April, 1787, as the day on which it 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 417 

sliould be publicly proclaimed to the army. At 12 o'clock, 
the Temple was thronged, and the joyful intelligence com- 
municated amid deafening plaudits. At evening the chap- 
lains, in accordance with the orders of the chief, offered up 
their thanksgiving and prayers at the head of the several 
brigades. All the military prisoners were set at liberty in 
honor of the event, and the American camp shook till a late 
hour with the shouts and laughter of the soldiers. 

Having addressed an able, patriotic circular to the several 
States, Washington made a tour north to visit the battle-fields 
in that section of the country. Visiting Saratoga, Ticonde- 
roga and Crown Point — he went west as far as Fort Schuy- 
ler, being absent nineteen days. On his return, by request 
of the President of Congress, then sitting at Princeton, he 
repaired to the latter place to give the aid of his counsel in 
measures to be adopted for the common welfare. 

A large proportion of the officers and soldiers having 
gone home on furlough during the summer, Congress, on 
the 18th of October, issued a proclamation discharging them 
and all others from service. The army was thus disbanded, 
with the exception of a small force left at Newburgh. The 
scene presented at this final breaking up of the army was 
most pitiable. Officers and soldiers were left without funds 
to reach their homes, and there were cases of individual 
suffering and destitution which would move the coldest 
heart. Playing the tune of Roslin Castle, the mournful 
requiem, to the measure of which they had always borne 
their dead comrades to the grave, they paraded for the last 
time, and then turned sorrowfully away. The only conso- 
lation left the poor soldiers, as they scattered over the coun- 
try, was the farewell address of Washington to them, in 
which he praised their valor and patriotism, and promised 
to guard their interests. 

At length the orders arrived for the evacuation of New 
York, and Washington returned to West Point, where he 



418 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

met the few remaining troops and moved down to Harlaem. 
On the morning of the 25th November, General Knox ad- 
vanced to where the Third Avenue and Bowery now meet, 
and awaited the withdrawal of the British troops. As they 
retired he advanced, and as the last British soldier left the 
soil of freedom, cannon on the battery thundered out their 
joy. Washington and Governor Clinton then made a formal 
entrance, escorted by a corps of Westchester light-horse. 
The two rode side by side, followed by the Lieutenant Gov- 
ernor, and Council four abreast, these by Knox and the 
officers on horsebacl?:, eight abreast, and they in turn by 
mounted citizens, the procession being closed by the Speaker 
of the Assembly and citizens on foot. The next Monday, 
Clinton gave a grand entertainment to the French minister 
ind officers, and the city rung to the clamors and joyful 
shouts of the people. 

Thursday, the 4th of December, was fixed upon for the 
final leave-taking of Washington with his officers. This 
was the most trying event in his whole career, and he sum- 
moned all his self-command to meet it with composure 
Knox, and Greene, and Hamilton, and Steuben, and others 
assembled in Francis' tavern and waited with beating hearts 
the arrival of their chief. Not a sound broke the silence as 
he entered, save the clatter of scabbards as the whole group 
rose to do him reverence. Casting his eye around, he saw 
the sad and mournful countenances of those who had been 
his companions in arms through the long years of darkness 
that had past. Shoulder to shoulder they had pressed by 
his side through the smoke of the conflict, and with their 
brave arms around him met every shock of misfortune with 
undaunted souls. He had heard their battle-shout answer 
his call in the hour of deepest peril, and seen them bear his 
standard triumphantly on to victory. Brave hearts were 
they all and true on whom he had leaned, and not in vain. 
A thousand proofs of their devotion came rushing on his 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 419 

memory — their toils and conflicts rose before him, and the 
whole history of the past with its checkered scenes swept 
by, till his heart sunk in affection and grief. Advancing 
slowly to the table, he lifted the glass to his lips and said, 
in a voice choked with emotion : " With a heart full of gra- 
titude and love, I now take leave of you; I most devoutly luish 
that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your 
former ones have been glorious and honorable." A mournful, 
profound silence followed this short address, when Knox, 
the friend of his bosom, advanced to say farewell. But 
neither could utter a word — Knox reached forth his hand, 
when Washington opening his arms took the stern warrior 
to his heart. In silence, that was more eloquent than all 
language, each advanced in turn and was clasped in his em- 
brace. Washington dared not trust himself to speak, and 
looking a silent farewell, turned to the door. A corps of 
light infantry was drawn up on either side to receive him, 
and as he passed slowly through the lines, a gigantic soldier, 
who had moved beside him in the terrible march on Trenton, 
stepped forth from the ranks, and reaching out his arms, 
exclaimed, "Farewell, my dear General, farewell!" Wash- 
ington seized his hardy hand in both of his and wrung it 
convulsively. In a moment all discipline was at an end, 
and the soldiers broke their order, and rushing around him 
seized him by the hands, covering them with tears and sobs 
of sorrow. This was too much for even his strong nature, 
and as he moved away his broad chest heaved and swelled 
above the tide of feelings that had at length burst the sway 
of his mighty will, and the big tears rolled unchecked down 
his face. Passing on to Whitehall, he entered a barge, and 
as it moved out into the bay he rose and waved a mute 
adieu to the noble band on shore. A mournful cry was 
borne back over the water, and the impressive scene was 
over. 

He had now severed every link that bound him to public 



420 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

life except the formal surrender of his commission to Con- 
gress. Passing on to Annapolis where this body was in ses- 
sion, he was followed by the excited population, escorted by 
military, and hailed with shouts at every step of his pro- 
gress. On the 23d of December he publicly gave in tc 
Congress his resignation as commander-in-chief of the army. 
, A profound silence reigned during the address, and many 
an eye was suffused as he closed with the impressive words, 
" Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from 
the great theatre of action, and bidding an affectionate fare- 
well to this august body under whose orders I have so long 
acted, I here offer my commission and take my leave of all 
the employments of j)ublic life." The next morning he 
left for his farm, having for eight years and a half served 
his country without reward, and achieved her independence 
without a spot on his name. As he slowly travels back to 
hie quiet home, bereft of every title, a simple American 
citizen neither asking nor wishing honor, he is an object 
of surpassing interest. The history of the world cannot 
match him. 

After long jeaxs of toil, of suffering, and of danger, he 
had arrived at the summit of power only to descend quietly 
again, leaving all his authority with that Congress which 
had so often distrusted, neglected and even plotted against 
him. Superior to temptation, superior to passion, too lofty 
even for unholy ambition, he showed how unjust had been 
their suspicions, how impolitic and injurious their opposi- 
tion, and how much above them he had been both in wis- 
dom and in virtue. It required no effort for him to surrender 
power. Having wielded it solely for his country's good, he 
laid it down as a burden the moment his country's peace 
and liberty were secured. 

Arriving at home, Washington found that during eight 
years' absence his affairs had become sadly deranged, and 
he immediately set about their adjustment. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 423 

The executive council of Pennsylvania had instructed the 
delegates of the State to lay before Congress the question 
of remuneration fot" his long and faithful services. But the 
latter would listen to no proposition on the subject. Simple 
in his tastes and habits, he had enough for his wants and 
sought only repose. At first it was difficult to roll away the 
weight of care that had so long rested on him. He could 
not, he said, get the better of the habit of reflecting on the 
business of the day immediately after waking, but as he be- 
came gradually accustomed to his freedom, he felt, as he 
wrote in a private letter, *'like a wearied traveler, who, 
after treading many a painful step with a heavy burden on his 
shoulders, is eased of the latter, having reached the haven to 
which all the former were directed, and from his house-top 
is looking back and tracing with an eager eye the meanders 
by which he escaped the quicksands and mires which lay in 
his way, and into which none but the all-powerful Guide 
and Disposer of events could have prevented his falling." 
In a letter to Lafayette, to whom he always opened his 
heart, he said, " At length I am become a private citizen 
on the banks of the Potomac, and under the shadow of my 
own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp and 
the busy scenes of public life, and am solacing myself with 
those tranquil enjoyments of which the soldier who is ever 
in pursuit of fame, the statesman whose watchful days and 
sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote 
the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, 
as if this globe was insufficient for us all, and the courtier 
who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in 
hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have very little con- 
ception. I have not only retired from all public employ- 
ments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to 
view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life 
with a heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am deter- 
mined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, 



424 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

being the order of my march, I will move gently down the 
stream of life until I sleep with my fathers." 

How simple yet self- sustained — how elevated in his own 
grand thoughts above all that this world can bestow. 
Through all the mazes and darkness and storms of the last 
eight years — apparently chained and fettered by circum- 
stances to the earth, he had nevertheless, in the might of a 
great soul, been steadily soaring up to the serene heights 
of contemplation, to the pure atmosphere of unworldly 
thought. 

During the summer Washington devoted most of his time 
to the improvement of his farm and in entertaining guests 
that crowded to see him from almost every quarter of the 
world. Lafayette again visiting this country in August, 
he had an affectionata interview with Washington, and then 
started on a northern tour, while the latter made his sixth 
and last expedition west to visit his lands in that section. 
Supplied with tents, pack-horses and provisions, he set out 
in September on a journey of six hundred and eighty miles 
through the wilderness. He went by the old Braddock 
route, where had occurred the most important events of his 
early life. What strange reminiscences that journey must 
have called up, and what a change had passed over his des- 
tiny and that of his country since he first trod that desolate 
region. As he stood by Braddock's grave, the past and pre- 
sent met, and presented strange and most striking contrasts. 
A mere stripling, dressed in an Indian hunting-shirt, he had 
first passed over this route on his perilous journey as a com- 
missioner to the French. The second time he traversed it 
in search of his first battle. The third ended in the terrible 
defeat of Braddock ; and now, after such a long interval, he 
trod it a portion neither of French or English territory, but 
of a free land of which he was the deliverer. Having sur- 
vej'-ed his lands on the Monongahela, he returned by a long 
and tedious route through the wilderness. The result of 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 425 

his investigations were given in an able letter to the Gov- 
ernor of Virginia, in which he portrayed clearly the advan- 
tage that would arise from a water communication through 
tlie country. With that sagacious forethought which was 
so characteristic of him, he had from the first foreseen and 
foretold the advantages of such communications both in the 
north and south. 

'On his return he again met Lafayette at Richmond, where 
both were received with public honors. The latter then 
accompanied him to Mount Vernon, and the two friends en- 
joyed that sweet communion which is known only to pure 
and virtuous hearts. His visit being completed, Lafayette 
reluctantly took his departure, accompanied by Washington 
as far as Annapolis. The tender nature of the relation that 
existed between these great and good men, and the warmth 
of Washington's affection, may be seen in the following 
simple, touching letter to the Marquis after their separation, 
December 8th. 

Says he, " In the moment of our separation, upon the 
road as I traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that 
love, respect, and attachment for you with which length of 
years, close connection, and your merits have inspired me. 
I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, whether 
that was the last sight I should ever have of you ? And 
though I wished to say no, my fears answered yes. I called 
to mind the days of my youth, and found they had long 
since fled, to return no more ; that I now was descending 
the hill that I had been fifty-two years climbing, and that, 
though I was blest with a good constitution, I was of a short 
lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed with 
my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades and gave 
a gloom to the picture, and consequently to my prospect of 
seeing you again." 

Li consequence of his letter to the Governor on the im- 
portance of internal navigation, the Legislature organized 



426 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

two companies (the Potomac and James River) and gave to 
him as a compliment fifty shares of the former and a hun- 
dred of the latter. These he refused to accept, unless he 
was allowed to appropriate them to some public use. This 
was granted, and he made over before his death the shares 
of the James River Company to Liberty Hall Academy in 
Rockbridge county, now Washington College, which has 
been materially benefited by the donation. The fifty 
shares of the Potomac Company were bequeathed for the 
endowment of a University in the District of Columbia. 
What has become of them perhaps the directors of the 
Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Company, into which they were 
merged, can tell. During this year he became interested in 
a scheme of Lady Huntington for civilizing and Christian- 
izing the Indians, but Congress declining to grant any land 
for the colonists that were to be sent out in accordance with 
this plan, it fell through. The past year Washington had 
devoted himself almost entirely to his farm, and having at 
length got it in a proper state, he the next spring [1785] 
turned his attention to ornamenting his grounds by trans- 
planting forest trees. He saw every tree taken up, moved, 
and put down in the place assigned it. He also added to 
his stock of fruit trees, and might be seen almost daily in 
the season for pruning, with knife in hand, clipping his 
orchards. That hand, which had so long grasped the sword 
and made its light terrible on the battle-field, now wielded 
with far greater delight the pruning hook. 

Still the privacy and seclusion he sought were not wholly 
attainable, for, though holding no public place, he was the 
most public man on the continent. Hence, between corres- 
pondence, applications for aid or advice, and a constant 
throng of visitors, only brief respites of tranquil leisure 
could be enjoyed. Nothing but the regularity of his habits 
allowed him any privacy. Rising before the sun, he shut 
himself up in his study till breakfast time. After breakfast 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 427 

he mounted his horse, taking such guests as chose to accom- 
pany him, and rode over his farms. On his return he again, 
withdrew to his study till three o'clock, when he dined, and 
devoted the rest of the day to amusement. 

In October of this year, Houdon took the bust of Wash 
ington previous to making his celebrated statue of him, 
which had been ordered by the State of Virginia. Chantry 
and Canova both executed statues of him, but Houdon's is 
considered the best ever taken. 

While Washington was thus enjoying the comparative 

quiet of his home avocations, events were gathering to a 

crisis, which showed clearly that the arm that had saved 

the republic in war would soon be needed to rescue it from 

as great perils in peace. The impossibility of governing 

the country by a Congress grew every day more and more 

apparent. With such a mediator as Washington between it 

and conflicting interests and sections, it had floundered 

through the war almost miraculously, but now, when left 

entirely to itself, it only got involved deeper and deeper in 

embarrassments. Besides, if the jealousies of the separate 

States prevented them from yielding competent powers to 

Congress to save the country from an invading army, it waS' 

clear they would operate with stronger force in peace. Thi& 

state of things Washington declared would, unless remedied,, 

efiect " our downfall as a nation." "This," he says, "isa& 

clear to me as A, B, C, and I think we have opposed Great 

Britain and have arrived at the present state of peace and 

independence to very little purpose, if we cannot conquer 

our own prejudices." He declared that, although a simple 

citizen, and hence as liable as any one to feel the effects of 

tyrannical legislation, he had no fear of " too great an ex 

tension of Federal powers," but he " predicted the worst 

consequences from a half-starved, limping government, that 

appears to be always moving on crutches and tottering at 

every step." Again, in writing to Mr. Jay, he says : " To 

23 



428 LIFE OF WASHIXGTON. 

be fearful of investing Congress, constituted as that body is, 
with ample authorities for national purposes, appears to me 
the climax of popular absurdity and madness. Could Con- 
gress exert them for the detriment of the public without 
injuring themselves in an equal or greater proportion ? Are 
not their interests inseparably connected with those of their 
constituents ?" On the contrary, he feared that they would 
be too timid in the use of authority, held back by the fear 
of losing their popularity. Without going into the particu- 
lar measures in which this jealousy of giving too much 
power to Congress exhibited itself, the result at length 
reached was — a confederacy too weak to hold together. Unless 
a change could be effected, therefore, a dissolution of the 
Union was inevitable. This deplorable state of things filled 
Washington with the deepest anxiety and grief. To see the 
goodly fabric he had reared with so much toil and care fall 
to the ground, and the nation he had saved from bondage 
become the by-word and scoff of kings, was a contemplation 
from which he turned away with an aching heart. He 
strove by every exertion in his power to avert such a catas- 
trophe. Events at length shaped matters so that the threat- 
ened peril was escaped. Maryland and Virginia appointed 
commissioners to form a compact relative to the navigation 
of the rivers Potomac and Pocomoke and part of Chesa- 
peake bay. These proposed other commissioners to make 
arrangements for maintaining a naval force in the Chesa- 
peake, and to establish a tariff of duties on imports, to 
which the laws of both- States should conform.* This sug- 
gested to the Legislature of Virginia to request other States 
to send deputies also to the convention to take into consi- 
deration the trade of the United States, and adopt regula- 
tions, and suggest laws to Congress for an harmonious 
arrangement of the whole question of internal commerce. 

• Vide Marshall's Life of Washington. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 429 

Only five States sent deputies, and these without power to 
settle anything. They, however, accomplished one grand 
work — they made a report, showing the evils of the present 
federal system — and recommended a convention of deputies 
from all the States to take the matter up. Virginia ap- 
pointed seven, Washington heading the list. He, however, 
hesitated about being " swept back into the tide of public 
affairs." Besides, he had written a circular letter to the 
States, declaring his intention to resign the presidency of 
the Cincinnati Society, and saying he could not be present 
at their next meeting in Philadelphia. Now this meeting 
was to take place at the very time appointed for the con- 
vention. If he should, therefore, go to the latter, after he 
had refused to attend the former, the distinction would seem 
to be invidious — in short, it would look like a desertion of 
his old companions in arms. Especially would this con- 
struction be natural, as the society was very unpopular — 
being denounced unsparingly as anti-republican. It had a 
badge like foreign nobility — it admitted foreign officers — • 
membership was hereditary in the family of the members, 
while it allowed the accumulation of funds to any amount. 
Although Washington had through his influence shorn it of 
its most objectionable features, and thus silenced some of 
the heaviest attacks of its enemies, still it was unpopular. 
But Congress having sanctioned the convention, thus giving 
it a legal character, and so arranged matters that the meet- 
ing of the Society of the Cincinnati should be a week earlier, 
thus giving Washington an opportunity to attend it first and 
explain his views, he at length, at the solicitation of men 
earnest for the welfare of their country, yielded his scruples 
and accepted the appointment. 

The convention assembled the second Monday in May, 
with every State but Rhode Island represented. Wash- 
ington was appointed president, and the result of its 
deliberations was the Constitution of the United States. 



430 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

This IS not the place to go into the history of that con- 
vention. Its deliberations lasted four months, and the con- 
clusions it came to were the fruit of a compromise. That 
jealousy which had hitherto rendered the confederacy com- 
paratively powerless, on the one hand, and the strong de- 
sire to see great power concentrated in the Federal head, on 
the other, operated as antagonisms, and produced at last 
that which neither party could fully approve. The consti- 
tution was not stringent enough for the Federalists, and too 
stringent for the Democrats — and thus being a compromise, 
had the most determined, positive men of both parties for 
its enemies. Such patriots as Patrick Henry, Colonel Ma- 
son, Gerry and others opposed it. It was, however, sub- 
mitted to the different States, and Washington waited with 
the deepest solicitude their decision. The prospects of its 
adoption were poor at first, but they gradually brightened, 
and at length it became the Constitution of the United 
States. 

The first step, as provided by the new constitution, was 
the election of a President. All eyes were immediately 
turned to Washington. But averse to entering again the 
cares of public life, unwilling to incur the suspicion of 
being ambitious, and loth to part with pursuits so congenial 
to his tastes, he was disinclined at first to yield to the gen- 
eral wish. Being plied, however, on the only weak point 
he possessed, love of country, he was at last persuaded to 
accept the nomination, and was elected first President 
almost by acclamation. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 431 



CHAPTER Xrv. 

Washington prepares to leave Mount Vernon — He Visits Fredericksburg, to take 
leave of his Mother — He Departs for New York — The Journey — Triumphal Arch 
at Trenton— Reception at Elizabethtown— Arrival and Welcome at New York- 
Installation of Washington as First President of the United States — He Declines 
Compensation for his Services — Illness, and Recovery — Debate on Titles — Death 
of the Mother of Washington — Organization of the Departments — Washington 
makes a Tour through the Eastern States— The Seat of Government is Removed 
from New York to Philadelphia — Establishment of a National Bank — Washing- 
ton Visits the Southern States — Development of Factions— He Desires to Retire 
at the Close of his Term of Administration— Is Induced to Serve a Second Time 
— Re-inaugurated President of the United States— The French Revolution— Eng- 
land Declares War against France — Washington Issues a Proclamation of Strict 
Neutrality — Opposition and Enmity — M. Genet's Arrival, and Assumption — 
Washington Requests his Recall — Relations with England — Jay's Mission— Op- 
position to the Tax on Distilled Spirits — Proclamation to the Insurgents — Calling 
out of the Militia — Restoration of Peace — Jay's Treaty — Its Ratification — Resig- 
nation of Randolph, Secretary of State — Washington's Private Life — Description 
of his Appearance on State Occasions — Imprisonment of Lafayette— Washing- 
ton's Successful Intercession in his Behalf — Washington's Farewell Address- 
Election of John Adams — Washington Returns to Mount Vernon — His Life in 
Retirement — Difficulties with France — Washington appointed Commander-in- 
Chief— He Returns to Philadelphia to Organize the Army — Interview with Dr. 
Logan — Napoleon — Terms of Accommodation at Paris — Washington at Mount 
Vernon — His Last Illness — His Death — His Character. 

The election of Washington being in effect unanimous, 
he was perfectly aware of the result, as soon as mere news- 
paper returns could be received from different parts of the 
country, and hence at' once began to make preparations for 
leaving Mount Vernon. Speaking of the long interval be- 
fore entering on his duties, he, in a letter to Knox, said, 
*' This delay may be compared to a reprieve, for in confi- 
dence I tell you, (with the world it would obtain little cre- 
dence,) that my movements to the seat of government will 
be accompanied by feelings, not unlike those of a culprit 
who is going to a place of execution, so unwilling am I, in 
the evening of a life nearly consumed in public cares, to 



432 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

quit a peaceful abode for an ocean of difficulties." His last 
act before commencing his journey north, was one of filial 
devotion. His aged mother lived in Fredericksburg, and 
thither he directed his steps. After embracing her, he told 
her of his election to the office of President, and added that, 
before he entered upon his duties, he had come to bid her 
" an affectionate fiirewell." " So soon," said he, " as the 
public business which must necessarily be encountered in 
forming a new government, can be dispensed with, I shall 
hasten back." "You will see me no more," she mourn- 
fully replied. " My great age and the disease which is 
rapidly approaching my vitals, warn me that I shall not be 
long in this world. But you, George, fulfill the high desti- 
nies which Heaven has assigned you. Go, my son, and may 
Heaven and your mother's blessing be with you, always." 
Overcome by the solcmnit}^ of her manner and the declara- 
tion, which he knew to be true, he leaned his head on her 
aged shoulder and wept. That great grand heart, which 
made him so terrible on the battle-field, was yet full of the 
tenderest affections, and clinging still to that dear parent, 
whose love for him was deep and unfiiiling as the ocean- 
tide, he wept like a child when told he should see her no 
more. Not when on the disastrous field he stops and 
gathers around him, by his majestic bearing, the broken 
fragments of his army, nor when he stands at the head of 
the republic which he has saved, does he appear so great, 
so worthy of the adoration of men, as here when he leans 
and weeps on the neck of his mother. 

The scene and the characters furnish one of the noblest 
subjects for an artist found in American history. 

From the time that the result of Washington's election 
was known, till his departure for New York, congratulations 
and warm expressions of delight poured in upon him in 
such a constant flow, that if anything could have reconciled 
him to the abandonment of private life, the pleasure he waa 









, ,,/T^^ - '^/^ ^'" \r 










^ . 



W A S II I N G T N TAKING LEAVE F T II E A R 11 Y. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 435 

evidently giving to others would have effected it. Still it 
required a great effort to surrender the quiet of his home, 
and the pursuits so congenial to his tastes, for the turmoil of 
public life. In a letter to Edward Rutledge, he says : "You 
know, my dear sir, I had concentrated all my schemes, all 
my views, all my wishes within the narrow circle of domestic 
enjoyment. Though I flatter myself the world will do me 
the justice to believe, that, at my time of life and in my 
circumstances, nothing but a conviction of duty could have 
induced me to depart from my resolution of remaining in 
retirement, yet I greatly apprehend that my countrymen 
will expect too much of me." 

At length, on the ICth of April, he bade a reluctant adieu 
to his farm and rural occupations, and commenced, what 
was at that time the long, tedious journey to New York. 
Instead of being elated with the proud position he was to 
occupy, or of feeling his pulses quicken at the whisper of 
ambition, a touching sadness pervades his whole conduct, 
and he inserts in his diary : "About ten o'clock I bade adieu 
to Mount Vernon, to private life and to domestic felicity ; 
and Avith a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful 
rsensations than I have words to express, set out for New 
York in company with Mr. Thompson and Colonel Hum- 
phreys, with the best disposition to render service to my 
country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of an- 
swering its expectations." 

His journey was more like the trlumi3hal march of a Ro- 
man conqueror, than the quiet progress of an American 
citizen. The news of his approach preceded him, and from 
every farm-house and shop and hamlet — ^from every valley 
and green mountain slope, the grateful delighted peoiDle 
came swarming in crowds along the highway to greet him 
— and shouts, and blessings, and delirious welcome marked 
every step of his passage. At Trenton, the inhabitants 
wreathed with garlands the bridge of Assanpink, where he 



436 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

lay encamped the night before he marched on Princeton, 
and over it bent an arch on which was inscribed : 

The Hero who defended the Mothers, 
Will also protect the Daughters. 

At the farther extremity a crowd of h'ttle girls, robed in 
white, with garlands around their temples, and baskets filled 
with flowers in their hands, stood ready to receive him as he 
passed beneath the arch. Behind them, at a little distance, 
was still another throng composed of maidens also, arrayed in 
white, and still farther in the back ground the aged fathers 
and mothers. As the stately form of Washington passed 
through the arch, those children and maidens burst forth into 
a song of welcome. The chorus was, '^ Strew your heroes way 
with flowers,''^ and as its sweet and thrilling melody rolled 
heavenward, they cast their flowers in his path. The aged 
parents behind with glad tears streaming down their 
cheeks ; the daughters in front, arrayed in white ; the little 
children nearer still, their eyes beaming with excitement, 
and the associations connected with the spot, all combined 
to render the scene one of the most tender and touching in 
the whole life of Washington ; and as the clear and ringing 

_orus, " Strew your heroes way with flowers,^* rose and fell 
.n thrilling cadences on the air, the enthusiasm broke over 
all bounds, and a long shout of exultation, and " Long live 
Washington," shook the banks of the stream. The beauti- 
ful ranks opened to receive the chieftain as he advanced, 
and looking down on the throng of sweet upturned faces, 
the tears gathered in his eyes, and with a quivering lip, he 
waved his hat and passed on. At Elizabethtown an elegant 
barge, manned by thirteen New York pilots, neatly dressed 
in white, was waiting to receive him. The shore was lined 
with people, and as Washington stepped into the boat, they 
sent up a long and deafening shout. At a given signal the 

gayly decorated craft pushed from the shore, and as the oars 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 437 

dipped into the water there went forth a blast of trumpets, 
and triumphant strains of martial music floated out over 
the water. Boat after boat from New York met and fell in 
the procession, and when the open bay was reached, a whole 
fleet of vessels, flaunting with ribbons and gay streamers, 
and crowded with spectators, gathered around the barge of 
Washington, singing peans of victory, while shouts blending 
in with the pealing of bugles and strains of martial music 
swelled the enthusiasm beyond all bounds. The whole vast 
concourse swept on toward the Battery, each wharf as they 
passed sending up a wild welcome from its crowded head, 
while the thunder of artillery received him at the place of 
landing. As he stepped on shore, one united loud " Long 
Live Washington" rose from the mighty multitude. Pass- 
ing through lines of military, he moved to the head of the 
military, when the whole fell in and passed up Broadway to 
the Park, beside which was the house selected for his resi- 
dence. At night the city was ablaze with illuminations and 
innumerable fire-works, and the streets shook to the shouts 
of the populace. Wholly unlike all other men throughout 
his whole career, so here the passionate enthusiastic wel- 
come he received did not waken up one of those feelings of 
gratification or pride which seem inherent in our very nature. 
Intent only on benefiting others, thinking sadly over the 
disappointments he might create, he says : " The departure 
of the boats which attended me, and joined on this occasion, 
some with instrumental music on board — the decorations of 
the ships, the roar of cannon, and the loud acclamations of 
the people which rent the air as I passed along the wharves, 
filled my mind with sensations (contemplating the reverse 
of this scene, which may be the case after all my labors to 
do good) as painful as they were pleasing." The pageantry 
which usually intoxicates the soul, and the adoration which 
naturally awakens pride, had no power over him. Think- 
ing only of the country he loves better than his life, his mind 



438 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

passes on to the time when his best efiforts may be mis- 
judged and his fondest hopes disappointed. Good as he 
was great, so good that virtue in him seemed not the result 
of effort, but the natural breath of his being, he seems not 
to know what it is to resist temptation. 

I do not design to go into a detailed history of Washing- 
ton's administrations, for that would embrace the entire 
range of the political history of the country for eight years, 
sufficient in itself to constitute a large work. 

His installation into office as First President of the Re- 
public, April 30th, was accompanied with imposing ceremo- 
nies. At nine o'clock in the morning all the bells in the 
city called the inhabitants each to his own place of worship, 
to invoke God's blessing on their future chief, and on the 
country over which he was to preside. In those days the 
superintending providence of the Almighty was believed in, 
and his pleasure or displeasure considered worth regarding 
by those who loved their country. At noon the troops 
paraded in front of Washington's house, when he, attended 
by the committees of Congress and Heads of Department 
and Foreign Ministers, entered his coach and rode alone to 
the Federal Hall. Chancellor Livingston administered the 
oath of office in presence of the people, who ratified it 
with long and loud acclamations of "Long live Washington, 
our President." 

After delivering his inaugural speech to the two Houses 
of Congress, he went on foot to St. Paul's church, where 
prayers were read by the bishop. At night bonfires and 
illuminations and transparencies kept the city in a tumult 
of joy, and lighted out the day, which had so auspiciously 
begun. 

Acting on the principle which had governed all his public 
life, Washington announced to Congress that he would 
receive no compensation for his services, and asked only 
that his necessary expenses should be paid by the State. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 439 

The different departments not yet being organized, Jay, 
Secretary of Foreign Afiliirs, and Knox, of War, under 
Congress, continued to fulfill the duties of their respective 
offices, while a Board of Commissioners had charge of the 
Treasury. From these Washington obtained full reports, 
which he himself went over carefully and in detail, and 
condensed with great- labor. He at once, with his usual 
method, set out to master every department of government. 

From the first he was constantly overrun with persons 
calling to pay their respects to him, distracting his attention 
and occupying the time which he needed for public pur- 
poses. This embarrassed him much ; still it was a delicate 
matter to avoid the evil on the one hand, and yet escape 
the charge of imitating royalty in exclusiveness on the 
other. After much discussion and correspondence, it was 
finally agreed upon to set apart one hour on each Tuesday, 
between three and four, to receive visitors. 

In June, he was taken seriously ill, and suffered much 
from an affection of one. of his limbs, and for a time morti- 
fication seemed almost certain to follow. Dr. Bard was his 
physician, and while the danger was imminent, never left 
his side. From the anxiety manifested in the countenances 
of those who surrounded him, and the constant assiduous 
attentions of the physician, Washington became convinced 
that his case was a very critical one. One day, therefore, 
being left alone with Dr. Bard, he looked him steadily in 
the face, and then asked him to say candidly, what he 
thought would be the termination of his disease. The 
doctor replied that he had great hopes of his recovery, still 
there were serious grounds of apprehension. " To-night or 
twenty years hence, (calmly replied Washington,) makes no 
difference ; I know that I am in the hands of a good Provi- 
dence.^** He was ill six weeks, and it was a long time 

* Life of Dr. Samuel Bard, by Professor McVickar. 



440 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

before he regained his usual strength and health. When 
he had recovered suflficiently to ride out by being bolstered 
up in his seat, it was touching to witness the sad and 
anxious countenances of the people as he passed ; and the 
murmured blessings that followed his receding carriage 
were worth more than thrones and diadems. 

From the first, there had been in the Senate a singular 
excitement respecting the title with which the President 
should be addressed, and a joint committee from both 
Houses, was at length appointed to report in this important 
matter. Their united report was, that no titles should be 
given. But this was too democratic for the Senate, and a 
hot debate followed in that body, which was stopped only 
by the previous question. The committee of the Senate, 
however, reported that it was proper to style the President 
" His Highness y the President of the United States of America, 
and Protector of their Liberties.'* The House of Represen- 
tatives took no notice of this, but addressed a communica- 
tion to the President simply as '^ President of the United 
States." 

The excitement extended to the country, and the news- 
papers took up the subject with great warmth, but the 
republican spirit at length overcame all opposition, and the 
subject of titles was dismissed from the public mind. 

In August, Washington received intelligence of the death 
of his mother, who had reached the advanced age of eighty- 
two. In reply to a letter from his sister, announcing the 
sad event, he said, " Awful and affecting as the death of a 
parent is, there is consolation in knowing Heaven has spared 
ours to an age which few attain, and favored her with the 
full enjoyment of her mental faculties, and as much bodily 
strength as usually falls to the lot of four-score. Under 
these considerations, and a hope that she is translated to a 
happier place, it is the duty of her relatives to yield due 
submission to the decrees of the Creator." 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 441 

Washington carried into his life, as President, the same 
habits of strict economy that he practiced at home, yet he 
found it Impossible often to come within the sum of $25,000, 
which had been voted by Congress as his salary, and he was 
compelled to resort to his private income to meet his cur- 
rent expenses. Only the departments of treasury, war, and 
foreign affairs, were formed during this session of Congress, 
and it adjourned in the latter part of September. Hamilton 
was appointed Secretary of the Treasury. Jefferson was at 
the head of Foreign Affairs, which office also embraced that 
of Secretary of State, while Knox was retained Secretary 
of War. Edmund Randolph was appointed Attorney Gene- 
ral, and John Jay placed at the head of the Supreme Court. 
The different appointments caused much perplexity, but the 
President, by adopting one principle, viz., to select men 
solely for their qualifications and capacity to fill the office 
in which they were placed, succeeded in convincing most 
of the wisdom of his course. 

When Congress adjourned, he took advantage of the ses- 
sion to make a tour through the Eastern States. He was 
absent a month visiting various localities, but he studiously 
avoided Rhode Island, because she had not yet come into 
the Union. Every step of his progress was an ovation, and 
he could scarcely move without having his carriage sur- 
rounded by enthusiastic multitudes, while congratulations 
poured in upon him from every side. The proofs of rising 
prospects and increasing wealth which appeared in the New 
England States gratified him exceedingly, and he returned 
to New York not only much improved in health, but cheered 
also at the great satisfaction of the people with their new 
government. 

The passing of proper laws, the payment of foreign loans 
and home debts, and all the machinery of a new govern- 
ment, by turns occupied Congress, and necessarily deeply 
engaged the mind of the President. A short visit to Rhode 



442 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 

'•1 

Island, which had at length come into the confederation, 
was the only relaxation he took during this session of Con- 
gress. At its adjournment he visited again Mount Vernon, 
but its quiet walls and secluded haunts could no longer dis- 
tract his attention from public afiairs. Our relations with 
England were not promising, while those with Spain assumed 
a still more unfavorable character. These two nations, 
one at the north and the other at the south, stirred up the 
Indians to hostilities, and kept our frontiers drenched in 
blood. 

In his dealings with the Indians Washington always 
adopted a humane policy. He recognized all their rights, 
and treated them in every way as if they were civilized 
nations. His course would doubtless have been successful 
but for the intrigues of England and Spain. At length, 
however, forbearance became a crime, and he commenced 
open hostilities against them. The defeat of Harmar and 
afterwards of St. Clair protracted the war, so that it con- 
tinued through nearly the whole first term of his adminis- 
tration, and drew heavily upon the Treasury. There is an 
incident connected with the overthrow of St. Clair, which 
illustrates Washington's love of justice. An adjutant gene- 
ral, Sargeant, who was wounded in the battle, escaped and 
hastened immediately to the seat of government with the 
disastrous news. Being a man of wealth he was enabled to 
get transported rapidly, and hence outstripped the courier 
several days. Washington invited him to Mount Vernon, 
where he remained till St. Clair's despatches arrived ; yet 
during all this time never asked a question respecting St. 
Clair's defeat. Although much distressed and deeply anxious 
about the event, he was afraid he might hear a partial 
account, and thus be induced to decide unjustly. Sargeant 
said that during the whole time he was at his house no one 
would have known a battle had been fought but from Wash- 
ington's inquiry every morning respecting his wound. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 443 

At length, in 1793, Wayne was appointed commander of 
the forces in the north-west, and by one terrible blow pros- 
trated the Indians and restored peace. 

Congress having changed the place of sitting from New 
York to Philadelphia — it met at the latter place in the fore 
part of December, 1790. The National Bank, established 
this session, awakened much opposition, but Washington, 
after mature deliberation, approved the project. With Con- 
gress he was deeply engaged during the winter in completing 
various plans of policy, and labored unceasingly to perfect 
the government. 

When Congress adjourned in the spring, he made a trip 
to the Southern States, going as far south as Savannah. 
The whole journey of eighteen hundred and eighty-seven 
miles, was made with the same horses and carriage. His 
presence everywhere was hailed with delight, and he 
returned more and more convinced that a great and glorious 
future was before his country. 

At the next session of Congress, the elements of those 
two terrible factions. Federalists and Democrats, began to 
develop themselves more fully, and filled Washington with 
the gravest fears. Hamilton and Jefferson, represented 
those two classes of opinions and feelings in the country, 
and soon assumed a hostile attitude to each other. The 
former was for concentrating more power in the central 
government, by removing it from the separate states — the 
latter for taking more power from the federal government 
and bestowing it on the states. Seeing the bitterness of 
feeling which these different views caused between his Sec- 
retary of the State and of the Treasury, and fearing the 
animosity that it would create in the country, Washington 
used all his influence to bring about some reconciliation or 
compromise. His letters and appeals to each breathed the 
spirit of kindness and patriotism, but nothing could allay 
the fire which had been kindled, and it blazed on fiercer and 



444 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

fiercer till the overthrow of the Federalists, in the war of 
1812, ended the strife. Against himself, as the leader of 
the Federalists, all the venom and malignity of the Demo- 
crats were levelled. 

In a letter, speaking of the political animosity which had 
pursued him, he says, " Until within the last year or two I 
did not believe that parties would or ever could go the 
length I have been witness to ; nor did I believe, until 
lately, that it was within the bounds of probability, hardly 
within those of possibility, that, while I was using my 
utmost exertions to establish a national character of our 
own, independent, as far as our obligations and justice would 
permit, of every nation of the earth, and wished by steering 
a steady course, to preserve this country from the horrors 
of a desolating war, I should be accused of being the 
enemy of one nation, and subject to the influence of an- 
other ; and to prove it, that every act of my administration 
would be tortured, and the grossest and most invidious mis- 
representations of them be made, by giving one side only 
of a subject, and that too in such exaggerated and indecent 
terms as could scarcely be applied to a Nero, a notorious 
defaulter, or even to a common pickpocket. But enough of 
this. I have already gone further in the expression of my 
feelings than I intended." It seems hardly possible, at this 
day, that men could have been found so lost to reason, truth 
and virtue, as to load Washington with aspersions such as 
he here himself declares were heaped upon him. But 
political malignity always becomes personal, and is just as 
deep and unsparing. 

When the term of his administration drew to a close, he 
hoped that he would be permitted to retire to private life 
and spend the remnant of his days in quietness and peace. 
His known reluctance to accept the first nomination, 
created great fear among all parties, lest he should utterly 
refuse to accept a second. The hatred of faction gave way 



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WASUINUTUN AT TUK DHATH li E i> OF YOUN 



G C U S T I S . 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 447 

f') ; larm In view of the disaster that might follow his deser- 
tion of tlie helm of state. Those who afterward became 
his enemies urged him not to think of retiring, declaring 
that his commanding influence and wisdom were indispens- 
able in order to fix firmly and forever, that which had only 
settled into transient repose, and if he did not remain the 
whole tottering fabric would fall. By all that was dear to 
the Union, they besought him not to expose it at last to 
overthrow. They knew that Washington's weak side was 
his patriotism, and they plied it with appeals and arguments 
in turn, till at length he yielded, and on the fourth of 
March, 1793, was again inaugurated President of the United 
States. 

For the last three years the rumblings of the coming 
earthquake in France, had startled Europe from her long 
repose, and Washington watched the progress of events 
with the deepest interest, not only from the principles that 
were involved, but because the fate of Lafayette, he knew, 
would be that of republicanism. At length the Bastile fell, 
and Lafayette, through Tom Paine, sent to him the key of 
that strong fortress of tyranny and secret dungeon of op- 
pressed men. The National Assembly also wrote him a 
letter, closing with "May the individuals of the two nations 
connect themselves by a mutual affection, worthy of tho' 
friendship which unites the two men, at this day most illus- 
trious by their exertions for liberty, Washington and La- 
fiiyette.'* But the joy which the apparent regeneration of 
France had occasioned, gave way to alarm as the car of 
revolution rolled on in blood, and soon Europe was in arms 
to arrest its farther progress. England at length having 
joined the crusade for the overthrow of liberty, declared 
war against France. This threatened to augment most 
seriously the difficulties that surrounded the commencement 
jf Washington's second administration. Pie immediately 

iubmitted to the cabinet several queries respecting the 

24 



448 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

policy it was necessary and right for the United States to 
pursue. 

They having answered these inquiries, he by their advice 
issued a proclamation of strict neutrality between the two 
powers. Not only from the fact that France was struggling 
for liberty, the very principles of which had been trans- 
planted from this country, but also as toward an ally and 
friend who had just poured out her treasures and her blood 
in our behalf, this proclamation kindled into fury all the 
latent fire that had been so long partially smothered, and 
from that moment the secret opponents of Washington 
became more and more his open enemies, and a relentless 
war was waged against him till the close of his administra- 
tion. It was denounced as faithless to France and obse- 
quious to England, and worse than all, declared a mere 
party measure adopted by his advisers to secure a political 
end. The charge of striving to force this country into a 
useless war, of sympathising with wholesale slaughter of 
women and children, were retorted on the democrats, and 
that strife of factions rapidly gathered strength and in- 
creased in ferocity, till it shook the federal government to 
its foundation. 

While this state of feeling was dividing the country, Mr 
Genet, minister from the French Republic, arrived on our 
shores. Landing at Charleston, he was received with such 
enthusiasm that he believed the United States were ready 
to rush to arms to help their sister republic, who was only 
striving to carry out the principles of liberty and equality 
which her armies had learned in our long and almost hope- 
less struggle. He went so far in his extravagances as to 
order vessels to be fitted out as privateers in the very harbor 
of Charleston. These in time returned with prizes, which 
called forth a remonstrance from the British minister. The 
American government immediately forbade the fitting out 
.of privateers, which brought forth angry and impertinent 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON". 449 

letters from Genet to the Secretary of State. He even 
disregarded the declaration of our government and kept 
sending vessels to sea, which, in turn, caused more stringent 
measures to be adopted. This, of course, excited still more 
violently the French minister, and in the blindness of his 
rage, he dared to threaten Washington, declaring that he 
had usurped the power of Congress, and even hinted at an 
appeal to the people. Washington, feeling that the dignity 
of the country required that he should no longer tolerate 
this insulting conduct, directed that a request should be 
immediately forwarded to France, asking his recall. 

This had become the more necessary, from the fact that 
die Frenc minister had begun to organize societies over 
the land favorable to his views. 

Our relations with England were still more complicated. 
Morose from the loss of her fairest colonies, and determined 
to narrow down their limits as much as possible, she held 
forts on our soil, and sustained the Indians on our frontiers 
m their hostilities. She also impressed American seamen, 
and her privateers seized American goods on the high seas. 
To vex France, she also issued two orders, one authorizing 
tlie seizure of all American ships laden with breadstuJfFs, if 
bound to France ; and another detaining all vessels freighted 
with goods or provisions, sailing from any ])o^t of France, 
or of her colonies. These orders struck down, with a single 
blow, neutral rights. The President, in his annual message 
of 1793, took strong ground against them, declaring that 
the United States should claim and maintain its rank among 
the nations of the earth, and that the only way to secure 
peace, was to let it be known they were always ready for 
war. Fox, the leader of the opposition in the British Par- 
liament, alluding to this message of Washington, drew 
a contrast between Washington and the ministers of Great 
Britain, in which he said, " How infinitely more wise must 
appear tlie spirit and principles manifested in his late ad- 



450 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

dress to Congress, than the policy of modern European 
courts. Illustrious man ! desiring honor less from the 
splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind." 
He declared that the potentates of Europe sank into insig- 
nificance before him. " For him," said he, " it has been 
reserved to run the race of glory without experiencing the 
smallest interruption to the brilliancy of his career." 

Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine, wrote to him, saying, 
" I have a large acquaintance among the most valuable and 
exalted classes of men, but ^''ou are the only human being 
for whom I ever felt an awful reverence." As in the field, 
so in the cabinet, amid internal troubles and outward 
difficulties, his character shone forth with undimmed and 
constant brilliancy. 

The difficulties with the mother country, however, kept 
increasing, and a second war seemed inevitable. As a last 
experiment, he determined to send Mr. Jay as minister 
plenipotentiary to England, to see if an amicable adjustment 
might not be made, and a treaty secured. Congress, turbu- 
lent with contending factions, at length adjourned, and the 
public mind turned to watch the effect of Jay's mission. 
But while much hope was entertained from his efforts, and 
the prospects of peace seemed to brighten, internal insur- 
rections menaced us with more immediate and imminent 
dangers 

The tax on distilled spirits, which had been levied by 
Congress, a few years before, caused at this time great com- 
motion. This, instead of subsiding with time, had kept on 
increasing, and now had reached a point threatening civil 
war. The officers were violently treated in the discharge 
of their duties, and bands of armed men set at defiance the 
authority of the general government. Painful as the alter- 
native was, there was no choice left but to meet force with 
force. Preparatory to more serious measures, Washington 
issued a proclamation, commanding the insurgents to dis- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 451 

perse before the first of September, or he would call out the 
militia to enforce the laws. The insurgents, numbering it 
was supposed some sixteen thousand men, were congregated 
chiefly in the western part of Pennsylvania, but there were 
many also in New Jersey, Maryland, and Virginia. Wash- 
ington was, at length, compelled to call out the militia. 
Accompanied by the Secretary of War, he visited the two 
places of rendezvous of his troops (Cumberland and Bed- 
ford), and then ordered them to march across the Allegha- 
nies, and disperse, at all hazards, the insurgents. This im- 
posing force overawed all opposition, and peace was restored 
"without the shedding of blood. 

The Constitution requiring all treaties to be ratified by 
the Senate, Washington issued a proclamation requiring 
that body to assemble in June. I shall not here discuss 
that treaty. That it was such an one in its conditions as 
this country would at present make no one believes. 
Washington did not wholly approve- of it. He considered 
it incomplete and unsatisfactory, but the choice lay between 
this treaty and war. As the national honor had not been 
isacrificed, he thought this partial settlement of the difficul- 
ties between the two countries was better than an open 
rupture. 

The Senate occupied two weeks in discussing this treaty 
and finally only by a bare constitutional majority, advised 
its ratification. Nor could this vote be obtained except by 
excluding one article in it which prohibited American vessels 
from transporting molasses, sugar, coffee, cocoa and cotton 
either from the United States or West India Islands to any 
other part of the world. Ships not exceeding seventy tons 
might carry the products of the States to the islands — no- 
thing more. This of course the southern members would 
not for a moment listen to. The conduct of the Senate em- 
barrassed Washington much. He was not certain that this 
could be called a ratification till the excluded article was 



452 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

re-submitted to the English government. If it was not, his 
signature to the treaty would be clearly improj^er. In the 
meantime a senator gave a copy of the treaty to the editor 
of a newspaper, and it was published. Thus cast before 
the public, unaccompanied by any of the diplomatic corre- 
spondence, explanations, &c., it kindled into sudden and 
fierce conflagration the angry feeling that had been partially 
slumbering. It was everywhere received with clamors, 
with taunts and fierce denunciations. Public meetings were 
called, and national pride and honor so vehementlj^ appealed 
to, that a feeling was raised, Avhich for a time threatened to 
sweep away the administration. Bold and threatening 
resolutions were sent to the President from Boston. To 
settle the question at once, and allay the disorders, and pre- 
vent public demonstrations against the executive, Washing- 
ton called together his cabinet, and submitted to it the 
question of ratification. All but the Secretary of State 
advised it, and on the 18th of August he signed the treaty 
with the condition annexed, and sent it accompanied by 
a remonstrance to the British government against the 
obnoxious article, which had the desired effect, and it was 
excluded. 

The day after Randolph, Secretary of State, resigned his 
office. A letter from M. Fauchet, the French minister, 
deeply implicating his character, had been intercepted at 
sea and sent to the British cabinet, and by them forwarded 
to Mr. Hammon, British minister at Philadelphia. The 
latter gentleman handed it to the Secretary of the Treasury, 
who translated it. Washington was immediately sent for at 
Mount Vernon, and as soon as he arrived the letter was 
shown him. In it were plain intimations that Mr. Ran- 
dolph was working for the interests of the French nation, 
and could be bought over still further, in short was false to 
his position, and the trust reposed in him. Washington, in 
the presence of his cabinet, quietly handed Mr. Randolph 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 453 

this letter and asked for an explanation. The latter was 
indignant that the matter had not been submitted to him 
privately before it was brought before the cabinet, and the 
same daj handed in his resignation. In a note to the Presi- 
dent, lie requested that this letter, so deeply implicating his 
character, should be kept secret until he should have time to 
secure a thorough and full investigation, which would esta- 
blish his innocence. His request was comjDlied with, j^et 
he seemed in no hurry to have the investigation take place, 
and never did exculpate himself wholly from blame. He 
delaj^ed, hesitated, pretended papers were withheld, &c., 
when he had free access to all of Washington's papers, both 
public and private, with full permission to use them in his 
own defense. Mr. Pickering, from the War Department, 
took his place, and James M. Henry of Baltimore, became 
Secretary of War. 

When Congress assembled (March 29th), it refused to 
enact the laws necessary to carry the treaty into effect, and 
by a large majority passed a resolution requesting the Pre- 
sident to lay before them his instructions to Mr. Jay, with 
all the documents bearing on the negotiations. To refuse 
would be regarded a tacit confession of improper conduct 
on his part, by his enemies, while to accede would be yield- 
ing the prerogatives belonging to his office, and allowing 
encroachments which the constitution had guarded against. 
That instrument placed the treaty-making power in the 
President and Senate. Though much troubled at the 
dilemma in which he was placed, Washington refused to 
comply with the request, and gave as his reasons the uncon- 
stitutionality of it, and the dangerous and mischievous ten- 
dency of adopting such a precedent. The House was con- 
founded with this refusal, and for days after the hall rung 
with angry denunciations, which were combated with solid 
reason and calm judgment. The members, however, at last 
yielded. Still there was much bitter feeling engendered 



454 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

throughout the country, and one would have thouglit from 
the tone and language of many of the papers, that Wash- 
ington, instead of being the defender and liberator of his 
country, was its greatest foe and oppressor. But as he had 
stood amid a mutinous army, under the suspicious distrust 
and neglect of Congress, and in the night of disaster and 
gloom of the revolution, so now he stood calm and unmoved 
amid the assaults of poHtical foes, and under the false accu- 
sations of unscrupulous detractors. 

In writing to Knox, he says, in speaking of his enemies, 
" The consolation, however, which results from conscious 
rectitude, deprives their sting of its poison ;" and again, 
*' Next to a conscientious discharge of my public duties, to 
carry along with me the approbation of my constituents, 
would be the highest gratification my mind is susceptible 
of; but the latter being secondary, I cannot make the for- 
mer yield to it, unless some criterion more infallible than 
partial (if they are not party) meetings can be discovered, 
as the touchstone of public sentiment. If any power on 
earth could, or the Great Power above would, erect the 
standard of infallibility in political opinions, there is no 
being that inhabits this terrestrial globe, that would resort 
to it with more eagerness than myself, so long as I remain 
a servant of the public. But as I have found no better 
guides hitherto than upright intentions and close investiga- 
tion, I shall adhere to those maxims, while I keep the 
watch ; leaving to those who will come after me, to explore 
new ways, if they like or think them better." In looking 
back from this distant point to the party feuds and political 
distractions of those times, how lo£ty, how infinitely elevated 
above all his traducers and enemies does the character of 
Washington appear. Living in an atmosphere of truth 
and sincerity, seeking no selfish ends, but with an eye 
single to his country's good, he by the mere majesty of 
virtue alone, triumphs over all opposition, and finds his 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 455 

way to the innermost heart of the people. Neither 
partizan leaders nor loud-mouthed demagogues nor cun- 
ning detractors could shake the faith of the nation in 
him their more than father. That faith of the masses 
in his truth and integrity, rising over all the efforts 
of political leaders, is the highest eulogium on their own 
virtue, and shows that they were worthy of the freedom 
they had achieved. 

In the meantime, Randolph had prepared his vindication, 
as he termed it. The pamphlet was characterized by great 
bitterness of feeling, and unjust aspersions of Washington. 
Ingersoll, of Philadelphia, happened into the apartment of 
the latter just after he had received it, and witnessed one of 
those sudden explosions of wrath which terrified the be- 
holder. He found, he said, Mrs. Washington, and other 
ladies, cowering in a corner like frightened doves over 
which an eagle is hovering, and gazing with silent terror 
on the wrathful visage of Washington, fairly blazing with 
passion, while a torrent of invective poured from his lips. 
The duplicity, falsehood, and ingratitude displayed in this 
"vindication," for a moment unmanned him, and he 
became the lion he sometimes was on the battle field. 

The private life of Washington, at this time, was charac- 
terized by the great formality which distinguished that 
period. He rarely, if ever, walked out alone, but, dressed 
in black, with a secretary on each side, and all three wear- 
ing cocked hats, would stride majestically and silently along, 
apparently no more conscious of the presence of those attend- 
ing him, than of his own shadow. He often took drives in 
a handsome cream-colored coach, with .four horses, into the 
country ; but on Sunday, in going to church, he used but 
two horses. The livery of his servants was white, trimmed 
with gay colors, and Avhen, with his coach and six, he drove 
to the Senate, his appointments bore but faint resemblance 
to those of a republican President of the present day. The 



45G LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

following description, by Pticliard Rush, of his appearance 
on great state occasions, is very graphic : — 

" Washington was to open the session of Congress by 
going in person, as was his custom, to deliver a speech to 
both houses, assembled in the chamber of the House of 
Representatives. The crowd was immense. It filled the 
whole area in Chestnut street before the State House, 
extended along the line of Chestnut street above Sixth 
street, and spread north and south some distance along the 
latter. A way kept open for carriages in the middle of the 
street, was the only space not closely packed with peojole. 
I had a stand on the steps of one of the houses in Chestnut 
street, which, raising me above the mass of human heads, 
enabled me to see to advantage. After waiting long hours 
as it seemed to a boy's impatience, the carriage of the Pre- 
sident at length slowly drove up, drawn by four beautiful 
bay horses. It was white, with medallion ornaments on the 
panels, and the livery of the servants, as well as I remem- 
ber, was white, turned up with red, at any rate a glowing 
livery — the entire display of equipage at that era, in our 
country generally, and in Philadelphia in particular, while 
the seat of government, being more rich and varied than 
now, though fewer in number. Washington got out of his 
carriage, and, slowly crossing the pavement, ascended the 
steps of the edifice, upon the upper platform of which he 
paused, and, turning half round, looked in the direction of 
a carriage which had followed the lead of his own. Thus 
he stood for a minute, distinctly seen by every body. He 
stood in all his civic dignity and moral grandeur — erect, 
serene, majestic. His costume was a full suit of black vel- 
vet, his hair, itself blanched by time, powdered to snowy 
whiteness, a dress sword by his side, and his hat held in his 
hand. Thus he stood in silence, and what moments those 
were ! Throughout the dense crowd profound stillness 
reigned. Not a word was heard, not a breath. Palpitations 



(•! j 1:1* >-. -"^.y, 
'l I,'' 




WASHINGTON T A K I N (J 



LKAVE OP Ills MOT U Ell. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 459 

took the place of sounds. It was a feeling iiiflnitel}- bcj'ond 
that which vents itself in shouts. Every heart was full . 
In vain would any tongue have spoken. 

" All were gazing, in mute, unutterable admiration 
Every eye was riveted on that form — the greatest, purest, 
most exalted of mortals. It might have seemed as if he 
stood ill that position to gratify the assembled thousands 
with a full view of the father of his country. Not so. He 
had paused for his secretary, then, I believe, Mr. Dandridge 
or Colonel Lear, who got out of the other carriage, a chariot, 
decorated like his own. The secretary, ascending the steps, 
handed him a paper — probably a copy of the speech he was 
to deliver — when both entered the building. Then it was, 
and not till then, that the crowd sent up huzzas, loud, long, 
earnest, enthusiastic."* 

To the embarrassments which -surrounded him resulting 
from Jay's treaty, and his own refusal to send to Congress 
the i^apers relating to it, was added the deepest solicitude 
for his friend the Marquis de Lafayette. This nobleman 
was at first the idol of the French populace, but in the 
opposing tides of revolution he had been stranded, and was 
now languishing in an Austrian prison. We had at tha.^' 
time no representative in Austria or Prussia, and Washing- 
ton could not therefore appeal directly to those governments, 
still through our ministers at other foreign courts, he inter- 
ceded unceasingly for his deliverance. He sent also to the 
British cabinet requesting its powerful mediation, but in 
vain. As a last resort he wrote direct to the Emperor of 
Germany, asking as a boon, a great personal fixvor, that 
Lafayette might be permitted to come to America, promis- 
ing to regard sacredly any instructions under which he 
might embark. At length he had the pleasure of hearing 
that Lafliyette had been delivered over to the American 

* From the Republican Court, bj Rufus Griswold. 



460 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

consul at Hamburg, and of communicating the glad intelli- 
•gence to young George Washington Lafayette, who had l)een 
for two years a resident in his house. Harassed by the 
difficulties with France and England, that seemed farther 
than ever from permanent settlement — well convinced in 
his own mind that unless the policy and sj^irit of the British 
government changed, another war with that power was in- 
evitable, he saw with relief his second term of office draw- 
ing to a close. Turning a deaf ear to all proposals for 
reelection for a third term, he devoted much of his thoughts 
to a Farewell Address to his countrymen. Among the 
noble legacies which he left to his country, none is more 
worthy of being treasured in the heart of the people than 
this address. Through all its wise counsels, noble maxims, 
and elevated thought, the spirit of undying patriotism 
breathes like the undertone of an organ, through some 
grand and soul-subduing anthem. His bitterest foes forgot 
for awhile the animosity they had entertained against him, 
and the hardest heart was touched by this last proof of de- 
votion to his country. That address will never grow old. 
It cannot be read at this day without awakening patriotism 
in the dullest heart, and causing it to sigh over the ambition 
and selfishness of our modern rulers. 

John Adams was elected to fill his place, and he waited 
to witness his inauguration. Afterward a grand parting 
entertainment was given to Washington. Sparks relates 
the following anecdote as coming from Bishop White : "On 
the day before President Washington retired from office, a 
large company dined with him. Among them were the 
foreign ministers and their ladies, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, 
Mr. Jefferson and other distinguished persons of both sexes. 
During the day much hilarity prevailed, but on the removal 
of the cloth, it was put an end to by the President, cer- 
tainly without design. Having filled his glass, he addressed 
the company, with a smile, as nearly as can be recollected 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 461 

in tlic following words : * Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 
last time I shall drink your health as a public man : I do it 
with sincerity, wishing you all possible happiness.' There 
was an end of all pleasantry. He who gives this relation, 
accidentally directed his eye to the lady of the British 
minister, Mrs. Liston, and tears were running down her 
cheeks." 

A simple citizen once more, he turned his weary footsteps 
toward the quiet shades of Mount Vernon. But the people 
knew no difference, he was still their father, and military 
escorts, and crowds of men and women, blocked his way, 
and he was borne by the huzzas and blessings of the people 
almost to the gates of his dwelling. 

It is difficult, at this remote period, to review in detail- his 
aaministration, for it is impossible to conceive the difficul- 
ties and embarrassments that surround an entirely new 
government, whose foundation stones and whole structure 
were so widely different from all others. Things which 
now appear plain as noonday, had to be worked laboriously 
up to the light, and the first rude form reduced from the 
chaotic elements before the details could be furnished. It 
is enough, however, to convince us of the wisdom and saga- 
city of his administration, that a glorious future rested on 
it as a base. No other man could have put us even on firm 
footing, much less consolidated us into a sound government, 
strong at home and respected abroad. 

Much has been said of the hostile feeling entertained 
toward Washington by Jefferson, and many charges and 
criminations grew out of this animosity. These differences, 
however, were chiefly political — the two stood at the head 
of the great factions, Federalists and Democrats, and of course 
differed toto ccclo in their views of government. Political 
animosity, it is well known, is the most unsparing of all 
hatreds, and yet it could not weaken the personal regard in 
which Jefferson held Washington. Although, in the famous 



462 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

letter to Maggie, it is said he included Washington among 
those whom he affirmed were forming the government on 
aristocratic and monarchical principles, yet he declared that 
"his integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflexible'^ 
he had ever known. " He was indeed," said he, " in ever?/ 
sense of the word, a ivise, a good, and a great man." Still he 
let his political views warp too much his conduct, and Wash- 
ington might justly feel, that the former had repaid kind- 
ness with ingratitude, and confidence with suspicion. 

One who had seen Washington at the capitol, invested 
with power and the head of a great people, and afterward 
watched him an industrious farmer, repairing his barns and 
attending to his crops and cattle, would have obtained a 
vivid conception of the genius of our institutions and the 
simple grandeur of him who had founded them. 

The year that followed his retirement from office was a 
quiet routine of daily duties, and he thus makes one day 
describe the whole. He rose with the sun and breakfasted 
early. His morning meal being accomplished, he says, in a 
letter to a friend, " I mount my horse and ride round my 
farms, which employs me until it is time to dress for din- 
ner, at which I rarely miss to see strange faces, come, as 
they say, out of respect for me. And how different is this 
from having a few social friends at a cheerful board. The 
usual time for sitting at table, a walk and tea, bring me 
within the dawn of candle-light, previous to which, if not 
prevented by company, I resolve that as soon as the glim- 
mering taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I 
will retire to my writing-table and acknowledge the letters 
I have received. Having given you the history of a day, 
it will serve for a year." This, however, is a very incom- 
plete account. The numberless deeds of charity — the con- 
stant acts of kindness — the devotion to the interests of 
others, especially to those of his country, which revealed 
the soul and heart, are not recorded. The knowledge of 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 4G3 

tliem scarcely lived in his own heart, for with him to do 
good, was his natural life, so that acts of virtue were no 
more noted by him than his i:)ulsations. But while en- 
grossed in these quiet scenes, the driftings of that terrible 
storm which was rocking Europe to its foundations, began 
to be felt on these shores, and it seemed impossible that 
this country should escape being drawn into its vortex. 
The intolerant French Directory insulted our Minister, Mr. 
Pinckney ; French cruisers plundered our commerce, and 
indignities were heaped upon us that rendered farther indif- 
ference impossible, if the country hoped to secure the 
respect of nations. Preparations for war were therefore 
set on foot, and all eyes were turned once more to the 
nation's great leader to take again his place at the head of 
the army. The President nominated him Commander-in- 
Chief, and the Senate confirmed the nomination. Just 
having struggled through a long life of toil and suffering, 
and now treading the verge of the grave, a reentrance to 
that life and struggle was painful in the extreme, yet to 
the last, thinking only of his country's welfare, he declared 
he would not entrench himself " under the cover of age and 
retirement, if his services should be required in repelling 
the enemy." He therefore accepted the appointment and 
repaired to Philadelphia, and was soon again merged in 
public affairs. 

While here a little incident occurred, which exhibits in a 
striking light one feature of Washington's character. Mr. 
Logan had arrived as a sort of secret envoy from France, 
sent here, it was supposed, at the instigation of Mr. Jeffer- 
son. Our properly appointed plenipotentiary had gone over 
to adjust, if possible, the differences of the two countries, 
and this private underhand policy disgusted Washington. 
The following account of the interview between him and 
Mr. Logan, as furnished by his own memoranda of the visit, 



464 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

is interesting, from the strong light in which it displays the 
characteristics of the two men. 

" Tuesday, November 17th, 1778, Mr. Lear, our secretary, 
being from our lodging on business, one of my servants came 
into the room where I was writing, and informed me that a 
gentleman in the parlor below desired to see me — no name 
was sent up. In a few minutes I went down, and found 
the Rev. Dr. Blackwell and Dr. Logan there. I advanced 
toward and gave my hand to the former ; the latter did the 
same toward me. 1 was backward in giving mine. He 
possibly supposing from hence, that I did not recollect him, 
said his name was Logan. Finally, in a very cool manner, 
and with an air of marked indifference, I gave him my hand, 
and asked Dr. Blackwell to he seated, the other took a seat at 
the same time. I addressed a// my conversation to Dr. Black- 
well ; the other all his to me, to which I only gave negative 
or affirmative answers, as laconically as I could, except ask- 
ing how Mrs. Logan did. He seemed disposed to be very 
polite, and while Dr. Blackwell and myself were conversing 
on the late calamitous fever, offered me an asylumn at his 
house if it should return, or I thought myself in any dan- 
ger in the city, and two or three rooms by way of accommo- 
dation. I thanked him, slightly observing there would be 
no call for it." Then follows some account of a conversation 
on political matters, in which Washington, without depart- 
ing from his freezing politeness, gave some home thrusts, 
all of which however failed to disconcert the imperturbable 
Logan. The whole interview evidently made a decided 
impression on Washington, and chiefly, one would infer, 
from being perhaps the only instance in his life in which 
his manner, usually so impressive, or if he chose, crushing, 
failed to disconcert the object toward which it was directed. 
This Logan was evidently an extraordinary man, in his way 
making up in impudence what he might lack in character 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 4G5 

The minute details, as given by Washington, show that 
the persevering poHteness with which the fellow met all 
his studied coldness of manner, somewhat annoyed him. 
The climax of impudence, however, was reached when he 
replied to this lofty hauteur with the kind and charitable 
invitation of protection and an asylum in his house. One 
of these little bursts of light which sometimes falls on and 
enlivens a whole picture,, is here thrown on Washington's 
character, when, after saying, he answered him coolly and 
laconically as he could, he adds, " except asking how Mrs. 
Logan did." Here the true innate chivalry of the man 
leaks out. 

The organization of the army was a difficult matter and 
went on slowly, yet the energy and skill he exhibited in 
fitting it for active operations, showed that although verg- 
ing on his threescore and ten, " his eye was not dim, nor 
his natural force abated." 

In the meantime, however, Bonaparte had vaulted to 
power, and our plenipotentiaries at the French capital found 
little difficulty with him in coming to terras of accommoda- 
tion. But Washington never lived to see this great object 
of his heart accomplis^lied. On the 12th of December, he 
rode out to visit his farms as usual. But the day was cold 
and rainy, and after several hours of exposure, he returned 
wet and chilled. The next morning the ground was covered 
with snow, and he remained at home. Toward evening he 
complained of a sore throat, and his voice grew hoarse. 
He was aware he had taken cold, but thought little of it, 
and spent the evening reading the newspapers, and in social 
conversation with his family. As he was retiring his pri- 
vate secretary, Mr. Lear, advised him to take something for 
his cold. He replied, " You know I never take anything 
for colds ; let it go as it came," But in the night he awoke 
with a chill, while the inflammation in his throat had 

25 



^(^(j LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

greatly increased and continued rapidly to grow woitfe, ao 
that by morning his breathing was labored, and his voice 
became so choked, that he could with difficulty articulate. 
He sent for one of his overseers to bleed him, and then de- 
spatched a messenger to Alexandria, nine miles oil', for his 
old friend, Dr. Craik. The disease, however, made such rapid 
progress, that the family became alarmed, and sent for Dr. 
Brown, who resided near. But the remedies of these phy- 
sicians, together with the aid of Dr. Dick, who arrived later 
in the day, were powerless against the disease, which seemed 
from the first to have taken complete mastery of its victim. 
He was in the full vigor of life, and this sudden arresting of 
nature in its course, made the last struggles doubly violent. 
He lay and panted for breath, feeling, as the hours wore 
slowly away, that each one carried him nearer to the point 
of suffocation. But not a murmur escaped him. Calm and 
resigned, he bore his sufferings with that serene composure 
which had characterized him in all the trials of life. At 
half past four in the morning he sent for Mrs. "Washington, 
and requested her to bring two wills from his desk. She 
did so. He then bade her burn one and keep the other. 
At eight he got up and dressed and sat by the fire, but was 
compelled immediately to lie down again. At noon he 
made another attempt, but could not rise. As evening ap- 
proached, he turned to Dr. Craik, and whispered, " / die 
hard, but I am not afraid to die. I believed from my first 
.attack that I should not survive it. My breath cannot last 
long." The eflorts to relieve him aggravated very much 
tis sufferings, while they were powerless to arrest the 
disease. Feeling that they were wholly useless, he in a 
feeble voice thanked the physicians for their kindness, but 
requested them to desist and let him die quietly. Nothing 
remained to be done, therefore, but to sit and watch the 
steady but rapid ebbings of life. At ten he whispered in a 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 4G7 

low, husky, scarcely articulate voice, " I am going — liave 
me decently buried, and do not let my body be put in the 
vault in less than three days after I am dead. Do you un- 
derstand me? Well." It was fearful to see with what 
ruthless power disease crushed that strong nature down. 
But with perfect composure he withdrew his ' hand from 
that of his secretary and placed it on his own pulse, as if to 
count its last strokes. In a few moments his face chanired, 
his hand slipped from his wrist, and he ceased to breathe. 
Mrs. Washington, who was sitting on the foot of the bed, 
turned to the doctor and asked, " Is he gone ?" "Yes," was 
the reply. " 'Tis well all is over. I shall soon follow him ; 
I have no more trials to pass through." His breath grew 
shorter and feebler every moment, till a little after ten, 
when he ceased to breathe. As they looked on the lifeless 
form, it seemed scarcely possible that one, strong and 
healthy the day before, had really passed away, and death 
seemed doubly terrible, when with one quick blow it could 
carry so much to the grave. He went out with the cen- 
tury that gave him to the world ; and as his life had gilded 
its progress, so his death darkened its close, and hung 
weeds of mourning round the one that was dawning. 

The account of his sickness and death were received at 
the same time in almost every part of the Union, and the 
njition was paralyzed. Solemn ceremonies attended the 
funeral, and a long procession accompanied the body to the 
tomb. Minute guns were fired as it sadly wound its way 
through the wintry grove, and his old war horse, saddled 
and bridled, walked riderless beside the coffin. The noble 
steed he would never mount again, and to that cold cheek 
the sullen guns would never send the blood, as of yore. 
His work was finished — his battles were over — and the 
more than Emperor laid in the peaceful sepulchre. As the 
sad news slowly traveled over the land, a ciy of bitter an- 
guish followed it, for sudden darkness had fallen on the 



468 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

nation, a calamity overtaken it, for which there seemed no 
remedy and no solace. The people were his children — and 
they mourned him as orphans. Even the young Republic 
of France, then struggling for life, put on crape, and for ten 
days all the flags and standards wore mourning, as though 
some great national loss had been sustained. The young 
Napoleon, flushed with victory, issued the following order 
of the day to his army : " Washington is dead. This great 
man fought against tyranny ; he established the liberty of 
his country. His memory will always be dear to the French 
people, as it will be to all freemen of the two worlds ; and 
especially to French soldiers, who, like him and the Ameri- 
can soldiers, have combated for liberty and equality." On 
the same day the trophies brought from Egypt were dis- 
played in the Champ de Mars. After the splendid pageant 
was over, Bonaparte, with all the civil and military autho- 
rities of Paris, and accompanied by the most illustrious 
generals of his army, repaired to the Temple of Mars, now 
the Hotel des Invalids, to hear a funeral eulogium on Wash- 
ington, by M. de Fontaine. When the news of his death 
was received on board the vessel of Lord Bridport, then 
commanding the British fleet, composed of nearly sixty 
ships of the line, lying at Torbay, he lowered his flag half- 
mast in token of mourning. Every ship followed his ex- 
ample.* Nothing can illustrate the grandeur and elevation 
of Washington's character more, than these tokens of respect 
from nations with whom we were on the verge of hostihties. 
The history of the race furnishes no such instance. Over 
the hatred and prejudices engendered by war — over faction, 
and falsehood, and detraction — that character rises so pure 
and exalted, that the worst passions of man, his deepest 
settled prejudices, shrink from assailing it ; nay, humbled 
and rebuked, reluctantly do it reverence. 

Vide Sparks' Life of Washington. 




WASHINGTON AS A FARMER. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 471 

CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 

No one, in tracing the history of our struggle, can deny 
that Providence watched over our interests, and gave us the 
only man who could have conducted the car of the revolu- 
tion to the goal it finally reached. That revolution, from 
its incipient movements to its final close, was the most 
remarkable that ever occurred in human history. The 
principle of personal freedom had its birth in the teachings 
of Christ. From that time on, through all the changes 
of religious and political life, man struggled to make this 
principle practical. But at the first moment of success he 
was frightened back by the pathless, untrodden, and bound- 
less field that stretched out before him. On this conti- 
nent it began in asserting that taxation and representation 
should go together. But parsing from this narrow basis to 
freer and broader grounds, it at length made a clean sweep 
of kings and titles and privileges of every class, and a com- 
mon farmer presided over the destinies of a republic that 
acknowledged no law but the will of the people. From 
the time Washington entered on his duties as commander- 
in-chief, to the close of the war, he moves before us like 
some grand embodiment of virtue and power. To quote 
the language used by myself on another occasion — whether 
bowed in fasting and prayer before God in behalf of his 
country, or taking the fate of the American army on his 
brave heart — whether retreating before the overwhelming 
numbers of the enemy, or pouring his furious squadrons to 
the charge — whether lost in anxious thought, as his eye 
geeks in vain for some ray amid the gloomy prospect that 
surrounds him, or struggling amid the broken ice of the 
angry Delaware, in the midst of the wintry storm — whether 
galloping into the deadly volleys of the enemy in the strong 
effort to restore the fight, or wearing the wreath of victory 
which a grateful nation placed with mingled tears andaccla- 



472 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

mations on his brow, he is the same self-collected, noble- 
minded and resolute man. 

Perhaps there never was a public character so little 
understood in the various qualities that go to make it up as 
that of Washington. He is called the father of his country, 
and that phrase is supposed to embrace the entire man. 
We contemplate the perfected, finished character, nevei 
thinking of the formation state. We look at the fruit alone, 
without asking what kind of blossom produced it. 

Notwithstanding men's intimacy with human character, 
they will insist that an extraordinary one, whether good or 
bad, must be an exception to general rules — from the outset 
a monstrosity either in vice or virtue. But a great and 
good man is as much the result of growth as a tree. It 
passes through different stages, indeed through errors, ac- 
quires virtue by self-control, and wisdom by experience, and 
so matures gradually. 

There are certain moral qualities which adhere to one 
through life, and do not change amid all the vicissitudes to 
which he is exposed. An utterly selfish boy, is usually a 
selfish man ; and a child of generous and noble impulses, no 
matter to what depravity he may in other respects descend, 
generally retains those characteristics to the last. So Wash- 
ington had as high a sense of honor when a boy as when a 
man ; was just as elevated and unselfish in his feelings at 
sixteen, as at sixty ; but in all other respects he was totally 
different. In later years, repose and calm dignity were 
his great characteristics — in youth, ardor, enthusiasm, and 
love of adventure. In the former period of his life, peace 
was his desire and delight, while in earlier days, he loved 
the excitement of war and the scope it gave to his untried 
energies. In youth, the clangor of battle was music to his 
ears, but in riper age there was no sound so sweet to him 
as the song of the husbandman. 

Washington might have been just as good, but never so 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 473 

great a man, had lie possessed the same mildness and quiet- 
ness of character in his childhood that marked his later 
manhood. A certain amount of combativeness — destruc- 
tiveness, some may term it — is absolutely necessary to give 
a man energy, self-determination, and power. Every good 
and great man, from Moses to Paul, and Paul to Luther, has 
possessed it — much more, every wicked, ambitious spirit 
which has succeeded in changing the world. A warm and 
fiery heart is indispensable to great resolution and force. 
This Washington possessed. Cool and correct in judgment, 
yet quick in his impulses ; methodical and clear in all his 
business arrangements, yet bold and fearless in danger, he 
possessed the basis of a strong and elevated character. At 
times during his career, he was exceedingly impetuous, and 
on a few occasions his passions burst through all control. 
His whole appearance then became terrible, and the be- 
holder shrunk appalled from his presence. But these vol- 
canic exhibitions were of rarest occurrence, and served only 
to indicate the fire that was slumbering below. Without 
them we should never have known how marvelous was his 
self-control. He that ridcth his spirit, and not he that ha>v 
no spirit to rule, is the truly great man. It is one of the 
astonishing features of his life, that amid the perfect chaos 
of feeling into which he was thrown — amid the distracted 
counsels, and still more distracted affairs that surrounded 
him, he kept the perfect equilibrium of his own mind. 
The contagion of fear and doubt could not touch him. In 
this respect he did not seem susceptible to the common in- 
fluences which affect men. His soul, poised on its own 
centre, reposed calmly there amid all the tumult and turbu- 
lence that shook the land. The ingratitude and folly of 
those who should have been his friends, the insults of his 
foes, and the frowns of fortune, could not provoke him into 
rash acts or delude him into error. 

His constancy and firmness were equal to his self-control. 



474 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

The changeless aspect and steadfast heart he maintained 
during those seven years of trouble and gloom, which make 
up the history of the revolution, will be a wonder to the 
end of time. Cast down by no reverses, elated by no suc- 
cesses, he could neither be driven into despondency, nor 
carried away by extravagant hopes. But doubtless the 
trials which tested his firmness most, were those which we 
are least able to appreciate. Those outward public calami- 
ties which all can see, and in which w^e know we have the 
sympathies of the good, can be more easily borne than in- 
gratitude, injustice, suspicion and slander, from those we 
are striving to benefit. Amid disorganized, disbanding 
armies — amid cabals formed against him — falsehoods circu- 
lated about him, jealousies of Congress — amid open accusa- 
tions and implied doubts of his virtue and capacity, he 
moved calmly yet resolutely forward in the path of duty. 
This fortitude under calamities, firm courage in the midst 
of reverses, and unshaken constancy in every trial to which 
human nature is subjected, prove him to have possessed a 
soul of amazing strength, and a faith in the right never 
surpassed. 

Another striking trait in Washington's character, was the 
sway he exercised over other men. No one approached 
him without feeling this magical influence. A vast and 
comprehensive mind, which seems both to understand and 
embrace those about it, must, of necessity, exert great con- 
trol. Besides, there was that evidence of slumbering 
power, of transcendent elevation of character, of resistless 
will, of fearlessness and strength, in his very presence, that 
made every spirit bend before him. 

As a military man, Washington stands in the first rank 
of great commanders. He possessed every quality that 
goes to the formation of one. Courage was never more 
completely impersonified than in him. The bravest, said 
Napoleon, had his moment de peur — moment of fear. But 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 475 

one cannot point to the sj)ot in Washington's career, where 
his firmness and coohiess for an instant forsook him. To 
this was added that high chivalric feeling prompting a man 
in jDerilous crises to deeds of personal heroism. When the 
hour demanding them arrived,- the most perilous and des- 
perate feats of valor were performed by him, that are found 
recorded in the history of war. 

Another very important quality — the power in a com- 
mander to win the love and confidence of his troops, no one 
possessed in a more remarkable degree than he. Such 
devotion and love, amid starvation and want and neglect, 
were never before witnessed. Washington, at Valley 
Forge, holding the troops to him hy the power of love 
alone, attracts the wonder and admiration of the world. 

Caution and promptness combined in a leader, make him 
a strong adversary in the field. To be tempted into no 
rashness, yet show no hesitation or delay — to commit no 
error himself, yet be prompt as a thunderbolt in taking ad- 
vantage of one committed by another — are requisites rarely 
found, and yet possessed by Washington in a remarkable 
degree. 

A moral firmness., which neither defeat nor difficulties, 
nor the most protracted and exhausting labor can discourage 
or force into cessation of effort, is rarely possesssed by any 
leader, yet this never for a moment forsook Washington. 

In moral elevation, no warrior of ancient or modern times 
approaches him. Given to no excess himself, he sternly 
rebuked it in others. The principles of religion were 
deeply engrafted in his heart ; and as there was no stain on 
his blade, he could go from the fierce fought field to the 
sacramental table. That brow, which would have awed a 
Roman Senate in its proudest days, bent in the dust before 
his Maker. A Brutus in justice, he did not allow personal 
friendship to sway his decision, or influence him in the be- 
stowment of his favors. Sincere in all his declarations, his 



47G LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

word was never doubted, and his promise never broken. 
Intrusted finally with almost supreme power, he never 
abused it, and laid it down at last more cheerfully than he 
had taken it up. Bonaparte, vaulting to supreme command, 
seized it with avidity, and wielded it without restraint. 
The Directory obstructing his plans, he broke it up with the 
bayonet. Cromwell did the same with the Rump Parlia- 
ment, and installed himself Protector of England, and even 
hesitated long about the title of king. Washington, fettered 
more than both, submitted to defeat and disappointment, 
without using a disrespectful word to the congress that 
abused him, and rejected the offered crown with a sternness 
and indignation that forever crushed the hopes of those who 
presented it. Calm and strong in council, untiring in effort, 
wise in policy, terrible as a storm in battle, and incorrup- 
tible in virtue, he rises in moral grandeur so fiir above the 
Alexanders, and CiBsars, and Napoleons of the world, that 
even comparison seems injustice. But the crowning glory 
of his character Avas his patriotism. This was so pure, so 
unmixed with any selfishness, that the breath of suspicion 
never sullied it, and no ingratitude or wrong could for a 
moment weaken its force. It was like the love of a father 
for his son, that neither injuries nor neglect can shake. 
Exposing himself to present suspicion rather than peril his 
country — weakening and endangering his own army to aid 
his lieutenants — rejoicing in the victories and renown of 
others more than in his own, so that the land he loved 
better than his life, might be saved, he stands before us in 
all the harmonious proportions that make a complete man. 

It has often troubled good men that Washington made 
no mention of religion in his last moments. But a man's 
life, not his dying speeches, must be the criterion by which 
we judge him. One who has studied Washington's character 
well, would be more surprised to hear him express greater 
religious feeling on his death-bed than in ordinary life, than 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 477 

to hear him express less. To such a man as he, and one 
who had for his whole life faced death in every form, that 
last solemn hour could give no new revelations, awaken no 
new emotions. For years it had made no difference to him, 
he said, at what hour he was taken away. He had placed 
himself in the hands of God, and given the time of his de- 
parture no further thought. Besides, Washington never 
expressed to any one those emotions and thoughts which 
concerned himself alone. No man kept a more full and 
com^Dlete diary, and yet throughout, there never leaks out 
by any accident, any of those soul utterances which it 
seems impossible, under all circumstances, to suppress. His 
inward life he never revealed, and to expect that he would 
make that portion of it into which religion entered an ex- 
ception, is evidently unreasonable. His views and belief he 
never concealed — they were all emphatically religious ; but 
his EXPERIENCE was his own, and it was known to no one 
but God. 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 



Friends and Fellow-Citizens — 

The period for the new election of a citizen, to administer the executive 
government of the United States, being not far distant, and the time actually 
arrived when your thoughts must be employed in designating the person who 
is to be clothed with that important trust, it appears to me proper, especially 
as it may conduce to a more distinct expression of the public voice, that I 
should now apprise you of the resolution I have formed, to decline being 
considered among the number of those out of whom a choice is to be made. 
I beg you, at the same time, to do me the justice to be assured, that this res- 
olution has not been taken without a strict regard to all the considerations 
appertaining to the relations which bind a dutiful citizen to his country ; and 
that, in withdrawing the tender of service which silence in my situation 
might imply, I am influenced by no diminution of zeal for your future in- 
terest — no deficiency of grateful respect for your past kindness ; but am sup- 
ported by a full conviction that the step is compatible with both. 

The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in, the office to which your 
suffrages have twice called me, have been a uniform sacrifice of inclination 
to the opinion of duty and to a deference for what appeared to be your 
desire. I constantly hoped that it would have been much earlier in my 
power, consistently with motives which I was not at liberty to disregard, to 
return to that retirement from which I have been reluctantly drawn. The 
strength of my inclination to do this, previous to the last election, had even 
led to the preparation of an address to declare it to you ; but mature reflec- 
tion on the then perplexed and critical posture of our afluiirs with foreign 
nations, and the unanimous advice of persons entitled to my confidence, im- 
pelled me to abandon the idea. 

I rejoice that the state of your concerns, external as well as internal, no 
longer renders the pursuit of inclination incompatible with the sentiment of 
duty or propriety ; and am persuaded, whatever partiality may be retained 
for my services, that in the present circumstances of our country, you will 
not disapprove my determination to retire. 

The impressions with which I first undertook the arduous task, were ex- 
plained on the proper occasion. In the discharge of this trust, I will only 
say, that I have, with good intentions, contributed toward the organization 
and administration of the government, the best exertions of which a very 
fallible judgment was capable. Not unconscious, in the outset, of the inferi- 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 4*79 

ority of my qualifications, experience in my own eyes, perhaps still more in 
the eyes of others, has strengthened the motives to diffidence of myself; 
and, every day, the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and 
more that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be wel- 
come. Satisfied that if any circumstances have given peculiar value to my 
services, they were temporary, I have the consolation to believe, that while 
choice and prudence invite me to quit the political scene, patriotism does not 
forbid it. 

In looking forward to the moment which is intended to terminate the 
career of my public life, my feelings do not permit me to suspend the deep 
acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude which I owe to my beloved 
country, for the many honors it has conferred upon me ; still more for the 
steadfast confidence with which it has supported me ; and for the opportuni- 
ties I have thence enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable attachment, by ser- 
vices faithful and persevering, though in usefulness unequal to my zeal. If 
benefits have resulted to our country from these services, let it always be re- 
membered to your praise and as an instructive example in our annals, that 
under circumstances in which the passions, agitated in every direction, were 
liable to mislead, amid appearances sometimes dubious — vicissitudes of 
fortune often discouraging — in situations in which not unfrequently want of 
success has countenanced the spirit of criticism — the constancy of your sup- 
port was the essential prop of the efforts, and the guaranty of the plans by 
which they were effected. 

Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it with me to my 
grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing vows that Heaven may continue 
to you the choicest tokens of its benevolence — that your union and brotherly 
affection may be perpetual — that the free Constitution, which is the work of 
your hands, may be sacredly maintained — that its administration in every 
department may be stamped with wisdom and virtue — that, in fine, the hap- 
piness of the people of these States, under the auspices of liberty, may bo 
made complete, by so careful a preservation, and so prudent a use of this 
blessing, as will acquire to them the glory of recommending it to the ap- 
plause of every nation which is yet a stranger to it. 

Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for your welfare, which 
cannot end but with my life, and the apprehension of danger, natural to 
that solicitude, urge me, on an occasion like the present, to offer to your 
solemn contemplation, and to recommend to your frequent review, some sen- 
timents ; which are the result of much reflection, of no inconsiderable obser- 
vation, and which appear to me all-important to the permanency of your 
felicity as a people. These will be offered to you with the more freedom, as 
you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a parting friend, who 
can possibly have no personal motives to bias his counsel. Nor can I forget 
as an encouragement to it, your indulgent reception of my sentiments on a 
former and not dissimilar occasion. Interwoven as is the love of liberty with 



480 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 

every ligament of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary to for- 
tify or confirm the attachment. 

The unity of government which constitutes you one people, is also now 
dear to me. It is justly so ; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real 
independence, the support of your tranquillity at home, your peace abroad ; 
of your safety ; of your prosperity ; of that very liberty which you so highly 
prize. But as it is easy to foresee, that from difierent causes and from differ- 
ent quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to weaken 
in your minds the conviction of this truth ; as this is the point in your poli- 
tical fortress against which the batteries of internal and external enemies will 
be most constantly and actively (though often covertly and insidiously) di- 
rected, it is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the im- 
mense value of your national Union to your collective and individual happi- 
ness ; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment 
to it ; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the Palladium 
of your political safety and prosperity ; watching for its preservation with 
jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion 
that it can in any event be abandoned ; and indignantly frowning upon the 
first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from 
the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various 
parts. 

For this you have every inducement of sympathy and interest. Citizens 
by birth or choice, of a common country, that country has a right to con- 
centrate your aflfections. The name of America, which belongs to you in 
your national capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism, more 
than any appellation derived from local discriminations. With slight shades 
of diflference, you have the same religion, manners, habits, and political 
principles. You have in a common cause, fought and triumphed together ; 
the independence and liberty you possess are the work of joint councils and 
joint efforts, of common dangers, sufferings, and successes. But these consid- 
erations, however powerfully they address themselves to your sensibility, are 
greatly outweighed by those which apply more immediately to your interest 
— here every portion of our country finds the most commanding motives for 
carefully guarding and preserving the Union of the whole. 

The North^ in an unrestrained intercourse with the South, protected by 
the equal laws of a common government, finds in the productions of the 
latter, great additional resources of maritime and commercial enterprise and 
precious materials of manufacturing industry. The South, in the same in- 
tercourse, benefiting by the agency of the North, sees its agriculture grow 
and its commerce expand. Turning partly into its own channels the seamen 
of the North, it finds its particular navigation invigorated ; and while it con- 
tributes, in different ways, to nourish and increase the general mass of the 
national navigation, it looks forward to the protection of a maritime 
strength, to which itself is unequally adapted. The East, in a like inter- 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 481 

course with the West, already finds, and in the progressive improvement of 
interior communications, by land and water, will more and more find a val- 
uable vent for the commodities which it brings from abroad, or manufactures 
at home. The West derives from the Hast supplies requisite to its growth 
and comfort — and what is perhaps of still greater consequence, it must of 
necessity owe the secure enjoyment of indispensable outlets for its own pro- 
ductions to the weight, influence, and the future maritime strength of the 
Atlantic side of the Union, directed by an indissoluble community of inter- 
est as ONE NATION. Any other tenure by which the West can hold this es- 
sential advantage, whether derived from its own separate strength, or from 
an apostate and unnatural connection with any foreign power, must be in- 
trinsically precarious. 

While, then, every part of our country thus feels an immediate and partic- 
tilar interest in union, all the parties combined cannot fail to find in the united 
mass of means and efibrts, greater strength, greater resource, proportionably 
greater security from external danger, a less frequent interruption of their peace 
by foreign nations ; and, what is of inestimable value ! they must derive from 
union an exemption from those broils and wars between themselves, which so 
frequently afflict neighboring countries not tied together by the same gov- 
ernment; which their own rivalships alone would be sufficient to produce, 
but which opposite foreign alliances, attachments, and intrigues would stimu- 
late and embitter. Hence likewise they will avoid the necessity of those 
overgrown military establishments, which, under any form of government, 
are inauspicious to liberty, and which are to be regarded as particularly hos- 
tile to Republican Liberty ; in this sense it is, that your Union ought to be 
considered as a main prop of your liberty, and that the love of the one 
ought to endear to you the preservation of the other. 

These considerations speak a persuasive language to every reflecting and 
virtuous mind, and exhibit the continuance of the Union as a primary object 
of patriotic desire. Is there a doubt whether a common government can 
embrace so large a sphere? Let experience solve it. To listen to mere 
speculation in such a case were criminal. We are authorized to hope that a 
proper organization of the whole, with the auxiliary agency of government 
for the respective subdivisions, will aff"ord a happy issue to the experiment. 
'Tis well worth a fair and full experiment. With such powerful and obvious 
motives to Union, affecting all parts of our country, while experience shall 
not have demonstrated its impracticability, there will always be reason to dis- 
trust the patriotism of those who in any quarter may endeavor to weaken its 
bands. 

In contemplating the causes which may disturb our Union, it occurs as a 
matter of serious concern, that any ground should have been furnished for 
characterizing parties by geographical discriminations — northern and south- 
ern — Atlantic and western ; whence designing men may endeavor to excite 
a belief that there is a real difi'erence of local interests and views. One of 



482 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 

the expedients of party to acquire influence within particular districts, is to 
misrepresent the opinions and aims of other districts. You cannot shield 
yourselves too much against the jealousies and heart-burnings which spring 
from those misrepresentations : they tend to render alien to each other those 
who ought to be bound together by fraternal affection. The inhabitants of 
our western country have lately had a useful lesson on this head ; they have 
seen in the negotiation by the Executive, and in the unanimous ratification 
by the Senate, of the treaty with Spain, and in the universal satisfaction at 
that event throughout the United States, a decisive proof how unfounded 
were the suspicions propagated among them, of a policy in the General 
Government and in the Atlantic States unfriendly to their interests in regard 
to the Mississippi ; they have been witnesses to the formation of two treaties 
— that with Great Britain and that with Spain — which secure to them every 
thing they could desire, in respect to our foreign relations, toward confirming 
their prosperity. Will it not be their wisdom to rely for the preservation of 
those advantages on the Union by which they were procured ? Will they 
not henceforth be deaf to those advisers, if such there are, who would sever 
thorn fram their brethren, and connect them with aliens? 

To the efficacy and permanency of your Union, a government for the 
whole is indispensable. No alliances, however strict, between the parts, can 
be an adequate substitute ; they must inevitably experience the infractions 
and interruptions which all alliances in all times have experienced. Sensi- 
ble of this momentous truth, you have improved upon your first essay, by 
the adoption of a Constitution of government better calculated than your 
former for an intimate Union, and for the efficacious management of your 
common concerns. This government, the offspring of our own choice, unin- 
fluenced and unawed, adopted upon full investigation and mature delibera- 
tion, completely free in its principles, in the distribution of its powers, uniting 
security with energy, and containing within itself a provision for its own 
amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and your support. Respect 
for its authority, compliance with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are 
duties enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true Liberty. The basis of 
our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their Con- 
stitutions of Government ; but the Constitution which at any time exists, till 
changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly ob- 
ligatory upon all. The very idea of the power and the right of the people 
to establish government, presupposes the duty of every individual to obey 
the established government. 

- All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all combinations and asso- 
ciations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, 
control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the consti- 
tuted authorities, arc destructive to this fundamental principle, and of fatal 
tendency. They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extra- 
ordinary force — to put in the place of the delegated will of theiiation, the 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 483 

will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the com- 
munity ; and, according to tlie alternate triumphs of diflferent parties, to 
make the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongru- 
ous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome 
plans, digested by common councils, and modified by mutual interests. How- 
ever combinations or associations of the above description may now and then 
answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to be- 
come potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men 
will be enabled to subvert the power of the people, and to usurp for them- 
selves the reins of government ; destroying afterward the very engines which 
have lifted them to unjust dominion. 

Toward the preservation of your government, and the permanency of 
your present happy state, it is requisite, not only that you speedily discoun- 
tenance irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, but also that you 
resist with care the spirit of innovation upon its principles, however specious 
the pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect, in the forms of the 
Constitution, alterations which impair the energy of the system, and thus to 
undermine what cannot directly be overthrown. In all the changes to which 
you may be invited, remember that time and habit are at least as necessary 
to fix the true character of governments as of other human institutions — 
that experience is the surest standard by which to test the real tendency of 
the existing Constitution of a country — that facility in changes upon the 
credit of mere hypothesis and opinion, exposes to perpetual change from the 
endless variety of hypothesis and opinion ; and remember, especially, thai, 
for the efficient management of your common interests, in a country so ex- 
tensive as ours, a government of as much vigor as is consistent with the per- 
fect security of liberty, is indispensable. Liberty itself will find in such a 
government, with powers properly distributed and adjusted, its surest guard 
ian. It is, indeed, little else than a name, where the government is toO' 
feeble to withstand the enterprise of faction, to confine each member of the 
society within the limits prescribed by the laws, and to maintain all in the se- 
cure and tranquil enjoyment of the rights of person and property. 

I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the State, with 
particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. 
Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most 
solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally. 
This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in 
the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes 
in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled or repressed ; but in those 
of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their 
worst enemy. The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharp- 
ened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which, in different 
ages and countries, has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a 
frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and perma 



484 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 

nent despotism. Tlie disorders and miseries which result, gradually incline 
the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an in- 
dividual ; and sooner or later, the chief of some prevailing faction, more able 
or more fortunate than his competitor, turns this disposition to the purposes 
of his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty. 

Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind (which, neverthe- 
less, ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continual mis- 
chiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of 
a wise people to discourage and restrain it. It serves always to distract the 
public councils and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates the com- 
munity with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of 
one part against another ; foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It 
opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated 
access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus 
the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and the 
will of another. 

There is an opinion that parties in free countries are useful checks upon 
the administration of the government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of 
liberty. This within certain limits is probably true ; and in governments ot 
a monarchical cast, patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor 
npon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in govern- 
ments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural 
tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every 
salutary purpose. And there being constant danger of excess, the effort 
ought to be by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire 
not to be quenched ; it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting 
into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume. 

It is important, likewise, that the habits of thinking, in a free country, 
should inspire caution in those intrusted with its administration, to confine 
themselves within their respective constitutional spheres, avoiding, in the ex- 
ercise of the powers of one department, to encroach upon another. The 
spirit of encroachment tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments 
in one, and thus to create, whatever the form of government, a real despot- 
ism. A just estimate of that love of power, and proneness to abuse it, which 
predominates in the human heart, is sufficient to satisfy us of this position. 
The necessity of reciprocal checks in the exercise of political power, by di- 
viding and distributing it into diff"erent depositories, and constituting each 
the guardian of public weal against invasions by the others, has been evinced 
by experiments ancient and modern : some of them in our country and 
nnder our own eyes. To preserve them must be as necessary as to institute 
them. If, in the opinion of the people, the distribution or modification of 
the constitutional powers be in any particular wrong, let it be corrected by 
an amendment in the way which the Constitution designates. But let there 
hp, no change by usurpation ; for though this, in one instance, may be the 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 485 

instrument of good, it is the customary weapon by wliicli free governments 
are destroyed. The precedent must always greatly overbalance in perma- 
nent evil any partial or transient benefit which the use can at any time 
yield. 

Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, re- 
ligion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man 
claim the tribute of patriotism, who should, labor to subvert these great pil- 
lars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citi- 
zens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect 
and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with 
private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked where is the security for 
property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert 
the oaths, which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice ; 
and let us with caution indulge the supposition, that morality can be main- 
tained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of 
refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both 
forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious 
principle. It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary spring 
of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with more or less force to 
every species of free government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look 
with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fabric ? 

Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, institutions for the 
general diffusion of knowledge. In proportion as the structure of a govern- 
ment gives force to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion should 
be enlightened. As a very important source of strength and security, cherish 
public credit ; one method of preserving it is to use it as sparingly as possi- 
ble ; avoiding occasions of expense by cultivating peace ; but remembering, 
also, that timely disbursements to prepare for danger, frequently prevent 
much greater disbursements to repel it ; avoiding, likewise, the accumulations 
of debt, not only by shunning occasions of expense, but by vigorous exertions 
in time of peace to discharge the debts which unavoidable wars may have 
occasioned, not ungenerously throwing upon posterity the burdens which we 
ourselves ought to bear. The execution of these maxims belongs to your 
Representatives, but it is necessary that public opinion should co-operate. 
To facilitate to them the performance of their duty, it is essential that you 
should practically bear in mind, that toward the payment of debts there must 
be revenue ; that to have revenue there must be taxes ; that no taxes can be 
devised which are not more or less inconvenient and unpleasant; and the 
intrinsic embarrassment inseparable from the selection of the proper object 
(which is always a choice of difficulties) ought to be a decisive motive for the 
candid construction of the conduct of the government in making it, and for 
a spirit of acquiescence in the measures for obtaining revenue which the pub- 
lic exigencies may at any time dictate. 

Observe good faith and justice toward all nations ; cultivate peace and 



486 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 

harmony -with all; religion and morality enjoin this conduct ; and can it be 
that good policy does not equally enjoin it? It will be worthy of a free, 
enlightened, and at no distant period, a great nation, to give to mankind the 
magnanimous and too novel example of a people always guided by an exalted 
justice and benevolence. Who can doubt that in the course of time and 
things, the fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary advan- 
tages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it ? Can it be that Provi- 
dence has not connected the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue ? 
The experiment, at least, is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles 
human nature. Alas ! is it rendered impossible by its vices ? 

In the execution of such a plan, nothing is more essential than that per- 
manent inveterate antipathies against particular nations, and passionate attach- 
ments for others should be excluded ; and that, in place of them, just and 
amicable feelings toward all should be cultivated. The nation which indulges 
toward another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness,, is in some degree 
a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is 
sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest. Antipathy in one 
nation against another, disposes each more readily to offer insult and injury, 
to lay hold of slight causes of umbrage, and to be haughty and intractable, 
when accidental or trifling occasions of dispute occur. Hence frequent col- 
lisions, obstinate, envenomed, and bloody contests. The nation prompted by 
ill-will and resentment, sometimes impels to war the government, contrary to 
the best calculations of policy. The government sometimes participates in 
the national propensity, and adopts, through passion, what reason would 
reject; at other times, it makes the animosity of the nation subservient to 
projects of hostility, instigated by pride, ambition, and other sinister and per- 
nicious motives. The peace often, sometimes perhaps the liberty, of nations 
has been the victim. 

So, likewise, a passionate attachment of one nation for another produces a 
variety of evils. Sympathy for the favorite nation, facilitating the illusion of 
an imaginary common interest, in cases where no real common interest exists, 
and infusing into one the enmities of the other, betrays the former into a 
participation in the quarrels and wars of the latter, without adequate induce- 
ment or justification. It leads also to the concessions to the favorite nation 
of privileges denied to others, which is apt doubly to injure the nation making 
the concessions; by unnecessarily parting with what ought to have been 
retained ; and by exciting jealousy, ill-will, and a disposition to retaliate, in 
the parties from whom equal privileges are withheld-^and it gives to ambi- 
tious, corrupted, or deluded citizens (who devote themselves to the favorite 
nation), facility to betray or sacrifice the interests of their own country with- 
out odium, sometimes even with popularity ; gilding with the appearance of 
a virtuous sense of obligation, a commendable deference for public opinion, 
or a laudable zeal for public good, the base or foolish compliances of ambition, 
corruption or infatuation. 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 487 

As avenues to foreign influence in innumerable ways, such attacTiments 
are particularly alarming to the truly enlightened and independent patriot. 
How many opportunities do they afford to tamper with domestic factions to 
practice the arts of seduction, to mislead public opinions, to influence or awe 
public councils ! Such an attachment of a small or weak, toward a great and 
powerful nation, dooms the former to be the satellite of the latter. Against 
the insidious wiles of foreign influence (I conjure you to believe me, fellow 
citizens), the jealousy of a free people ought to be constantly awake; 
since history and experience prove that foreign influence is one of the most 
baneful foes of republican government. But that jealousy, to be useful, must 
be impartial ; else it becomes the instrument of the very influence to be 
avoided, instead of a defence against it. Excessive partiality for one foreign 
nation, and excessive dislike of another, cause those whom they actuate, to 
Bee danger only on one side, and serve to vail and even second the arts of 
influence on the other. Real patriots, who may resist the intrigues of the 
favorite, are liable to become suspected and odious ; while its tools and dupes 
usurp the applause and confidence of the people, to surrender their interests. 
The great rule of conduct for us, in regard to foreign nations, is, in extending 
our commercial relations, to have with them as little political connection as 
possible. So far as we have already formed engagements, let them be fulfilled 
with perfect good faith. Here let us stop. 

Europe has a set of primary interests, which to us have none, or a very 
remote relation. Hence she must be engaged in frequent controversies, the 
causes of which are essentially foreign to our concerns. Hence, therefore, it 
must be unwise in us to implicate ourselves by artificial ties, in the ordinary 
vicissitudes of her politics, or the ordinary combinations and collisions of her 
friendships or enmities. Our detached and distant situation invites and ena- 
bles us to pursue a diff"erent course. If we remain one people under an effi- 
cient government, the period is not far off when we may defy material injury 
from external annoyance ; when we may take such an attitude as will cause 
the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon, to be scrupulously respected ; 
■when belligerent nations, under the impossibility of making acquisitions 
upon us, will not lightly hazard the giving us provocation ; when wc may 
choose peace or war, as our interest, guided by justice, shall counsel. 

Why forego the advantage of so peculiar a situation ? Why quit our own 
to stand upon foreign ground? Wby, by interweaving our destiny with any 
part of Europe, entangle our peace and prosperity in the toils of European 
ambition, rivalship, interest, humor, or caprice ? It is our true policy to steer 
clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world ; so far, I 
mean, as we are now at liberty to do it; for let me not be understood as 
capable of patronizing infidelity to existing engagements. I hold the maxim 
no less applicable to public than to private aflfairs, that honesty is always the 
best policy. I repeat it, therefore, let those engagements be observed in their 
genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it is unnecessary, and would be unwise 



488 WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 

to extend them. Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable establisb- 
ments, in a respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary 
alliances for extraordinary emergences. 

Harmony, liberal intercourse with all nations, are recommended by policy, 
humanity, and interest. But even our commercial policy should hold an 
equal and impartial hand ; neither seeking nor granting exclusive favors or 
preferences; consulting the natural course of things; diffusing and diversify- 
ing, by gentle means, the streams of commerce, but forcing nothing; estab- 
lishing with powers so disposed, in order to give trade a stable course, to 
define the rights of our merchants, and to enable the government to support 
them, conventional rules of intercourse, the best that present circumstances 
and mutual opinion will permit, but temporary, and liable to be from time to 
time abandoned or varied, as experience or circumstances shall dictate; con- 
stantly keeping in view, that it is folly in one nation to look for disinterested 
favors from another; that it must pay with a portion of its independence for 
whatever it may accept under that character; that by such acceptance, it 
may place itself in the condition of having given equivalent for nominal 
favors, and yet of being reproached with ingratitude for not giving more. 
There can be no greater error than to expect or calculate upon real favors 
from nation to nation, 'Tis an illusion which experience must cure, which a 
just pride ought to discard. 

In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an old and aff"cction- 
ate friend, I dare not hope they will make the strong and lasting impression 
I could wish; that they will control the usual current of the passions, or pre- 
vent our nation from running the -course which has hitherto marked the 
destiny of nations; but if I may even flatter myself that tbey may be pro- 
ductive of some partial benefit, some occasional good; that they may now 
and then recur to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the mis- 
chiefs of foreign intrigues, and guard against the impostures of pretended 
patriotism; this hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your 
welfare, by which they have been dictated. How far, in the discharge of my 
oflBcial duties, I have been guided by the principles which have been deline- 
ated, the public records and other evidences of my conduct must witness to 
you and to the world. To myself, the assurance of my own conscience is, 
that I have at least believed myself to be guided by them. 

In relation to the still subsisting war in Europe, my proclamation of the 
22d of April, 1Y93, is the index to my plan. Sanctioned by your approving 
voice and by that of your representatives in both Houses of Congress, tho 
spirit of that measure has continually governed me ; uninfluenced by any 
attempt to deter or divert me from it. After deliberate examination, with 
the aid of the best lights I could obtain, I was well satisfied that our country, 
under all the circumstances of the case, had a right to take, and was bound 
in duty and interest to take a neutral position. Having taken it^ I determineJ, 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 489 

as far as should depend upon me, to maintain it with moderation, persever- 
ance and firmness. 

The consideration which respects the right to hold this conduct, it is not 
necessary on this occasion to detail. I will only observe, that according to 
my understanding of the matter, that right, so far from being denied by any 
of the belligerent powers, has been virtually admitted by all. The duty of 
holding a neutral conduct may be inferred, without any thing more, from the 
obligation which justice and humanity impose upon every nation, in cases in 
which it is free to act, to maintain inviolate the relations of peace and amity 
toward other nations. The inducements of interest for observing that con- 
duct will be best referred to your own reflection and experience. With me 
a predominant motive has been to endeavor to gain time to our country to 
settle and mature its yet recent institutions, and to progress, without inter- 
ruption, to that degree of strength and consistency which is necessary to 
give it, humanly speaking, the command of its own fortunes. 

Though in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious 
of intentional error, I am, nevertheless, too sensible of my defects not to 
think it probable that I have committed many errors. Whatever they may 
be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which 
they may tend. I shall also carry with me the hope that my country will 
never cease to view them with indulgence; and that after forty-five years of 
my life dedicated to its service, with an upright zeal, the faults of incompe- 
tent abilities will be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the 
mansions of rest. Relying on its kindness in this as in other things, and 
actuated by that fervent love toward it, which is so natural to a man who 
views in it the native soil of himself and his progenitors for several genera- 
tions ; I anticipate with pleasing expectation that retreat, in which I promise 
myself to realize without alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the 
midst of my fellow-citizens, the benign influence of good laAvs under a free 
government — the ever-favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, aa 
T trust, of our mutual cares, labors, and dangers. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

United States, September 17, 1796. 



THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 



A Declaration hy the Representatives of the United States of America, in 

Congress assembled. 

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people 
to dissolve the political bands which have connected them v^ith another, and 
to assume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to 
which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect 
to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which 
impel them to the separation. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident : that all men are created equal ; 
that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; 
that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness ; that, to secure 
these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just pow- 
ers from the consent of the governed ; that, whenever any form of government 
becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or 
abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundation on such 
principles, and organizing its power in such form, as to them shall seem most 
likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate, 
that governments long established, should not be changed for light and 
t'ansient causes. And accordingly, all experience hath shown that mankind 
are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right them- 
selves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a 
long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, 
evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, 
it is their duty, to throw off such a government, and to provide new guards 
for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colo- 
nics ; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their 
former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great 
Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations ; but all having in 
direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To 
prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world. 

lie has refused his assent to laws the most wholesome and necessary for 
ithe public good. 

He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of immediate and pressing 



THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 491 

importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent should be ob- 
tained ; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them. 

He has refused to pass other laws for the accommodation of large districts 
of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of representation in 
the legislature ; a right inestimable to them, and formidable to tyrants only. 

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, 
and distant from the repository of their public records, for the sole purpose 
of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures. 

He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly 
firmness his invasions on the rights of the people. 

He has refused, for a long time after such dissolutions, to cause others to 
Le elected, whereby the legislative powers, incapable of annihilation, have 
returned to the people at large for their exercise, the state remaining, in the 
mean time, exposed to all the dangers of invasions from without and convul- 
sions from within. 

He has endeavored to prevent the population of these states ; for that 
purpose obstructing the laws for the naturalization of foreigners ; refusing to 
pass others to encourage their migration hither ; and raising the conditions of 
new appropriations of lands. 

He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to 
laws for establishing judiciary powers. 

He has made judges dependent on his will alone, for the tenure of their 
offices and the amount and payment of their salaries. 

He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers 
to harass our people and eat out their substance. 

He has kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies, without the 
consent of our legislatures. 

He has affected to render the military independent of, and superior to, the 
civil power. 

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our 
constitutions, and unacknowledged by our laws ; giving his assent to their 
acts of pretended legislation : 

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us ; 

For protecting them, by a mock trial, from punishment for any murders 
•which they should commit on the inhabitants of these states; 

For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world ; 

For imposing taxes on us without our consent ; 

For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury ; 

For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses ; 

For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neighboring province, 
establishing therein an arbitrary government, and enlarging its boundaries, so 
as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the 
same absolute rule into these colonies ; 

For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and alter- 
ing, f-mdamentally, the forms of our governments ; 



492 THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested 
■with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever. 

lie has abdicated government here, by declaring us out of his protection, 
and waging war against us. 

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burned our towns, and de- 
stroyed the lives of our people. 

He is at this time transporting large armies of foreign mercenaries to com- 
plete the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circum- 
stances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, 
and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation. 

He has constrained our fellow-citizens, taken captive on the high seas, to 
bear arms against their country, to become the executioners of their friends 
and brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands. 

He has excited domestic insurrection among us, and has endeavored to 
bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose 
known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes, and 
conditions. 

In every stage of these oppressions, we have petitioned for redress in the 
most humble terms ; our repeated petitions have been answered only by re- 
peated injury. A prince whose character is thus marked by every act which 
may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. 

Nor have we been wanting in our attentions to our British brethren. We 
have warned them, from time to time, of attempts by their legislature to extend 
an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the cir- 
cumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their 
native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our 
common kindred, to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably inter- 
rupt our connections and correspondence. They, too, have been deaf to tho 
voice of justice and consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the 
necessity which denounces our separation, and hold them as we hold the 
rest of mankind — enemies in war — in peace, friends. 

We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in gen- 
eral Congress assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for 
the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the 
good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare that these united 
colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states; that they are 
absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political con- 
nection between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally 
dissolved, and that, as free and independent states, they have full power to 
levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and do all 
other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for 
the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Di- 
vine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, 
and our sacred honor. 



THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 
SIGNERS OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 



493 



The following is a list of tbe members of the Continental Congress, who 
signed the Declaration of Independence, with the places and dates of their 
birth, and the time of their respective deaths : 



JtAlIES OF TUB SIGXEES. 



Aflams, .Tohn 

A<lains, Samuol 

]Jaitlett, Jofiah 

IJruxton, Carter 

t'anoll, Charles, of Carrollton 

Chase, Samuel 

Clark, Abraham 

Clynier, George 

KUery, William 

Floyd, William 

Franklin, Uenjamin 

G rry, Elbridtre 

Gwinnet, Burton 

Hall, Lyman 

Hancock, John 

Harrison, Benjamin 

Hart, John 

Heyward, Thomas, jr. 

llewes, Joseph 

Hooper, William 

Hopkins, Stephen 

Hopkinson, Francis 

Huntingdon, Samuel 

JetTerson, Thomas 

Lee, Francis Lightfoot 

Lee, Richard Henry 

Lewis, Francis 

Livingston, Philip 

Lynch, Thomas, jr. 

M'Keon, Thomas 

Miildleton, Arthur 

Morris, Lewis 

Morris, Robert 

Morton, John 

Nelson, Thomas, jr. 

Paca, William 

Paine, Robert Treat 

Penn, John . 

Read, George . 

Rodney, Cajsar 

Ross, George 

Rush, Benjamin, M.D. 

Rutledgo, Edward 

Sherman, Roger . 

Smith, James 

Stockton. Richard 

Stone, Thomas 

Taylor, George 

Tli'ornton, Matthew 

Walton, George . 

Whipple, William 

Williams, William 

Wilson, James 

Witherspoon, John 

Wolcott Oliver . 

Wythe, George . 



Braintree, Mass., 19th Oct., 
Boston, " 22d Sept, 

Aniesbury, " in Nov., 

Newington, Va., 10th Sept., 
Annapolis, Md., 20th Sept., 
Somerset co., Md., 17th April, 
Elizabelht'n, N. J., 15th Feb., 
Philadelphia, Penn., in 
Newport, R. L, 22d Dec, 
Suffolk CO., N. T., ITth Dec, 
Boston, Mass., 17th Jan., 

Marblehead, Mass., 17th July, 
England, in 

Connecticut, In 

Braintree, Mass., In 

Berkely, Virginia, 
Hopewell, N. J., about 
St.Luke'8, S. C, in 

Kingston, N. J.. in 

Boston, Mass., 17th June, 
Scituate, " Tth March, 

Philadelphia, Penn., in 
Windham, Conn., 3d Julv, 
Bhadwell, Va., 13th April, 
Stratford, " 14th Oct., 

Stratford, " 20th Jan., 

Landaff, Wales, in March, 
Albany, N. Y., 15th Jan., 
St. George's, 8. C, 5th Aug., 
Chester co., Pa., 19th March, 
Middleton Place, S. C, in 
Morrisania, N. Y., In 

Lancashire, England, Jan., 
Ridley, Penn., in 

York, Virginia, 2Cth Dec, 
Wye-Hill, Md., 81st Oct., 
Boston, Mass., in 

Caroline co., Va., ITth May, 
Cecil CO., Maryland, In 
Dover, Delaware, in 



New Castle, Del., 
Byperry, Penn., 
Charleston, 8. C, 
Newton, Mass., 
Ireland, 

Princeton, N. J., 
Charles co., Md., 
Ireland, 
Ireland, 

Frederick co., Va., 
Kittery, Maine, 
Lebanon, Conn., 
Scotland 



in 
24th Dec, 
in Nov., 
19th April, 

Ist Oct, 
In 
in 

in 

in 

in 

8th April, 

about 



Yester, Scotland, 6th Feb., 
Windsor, Conn., 26th Nov., 
Elizabeth city, Va., in 



1735 
1722 
17-29 
1736 
1737 
1741 
1726 
1739 
1727 
1734 
1706 
1744 
1732 
1731 
1737 

1715 
1746 
1730 
1742 
170T 
1737 
1732 
1743 
1734 
1782 
1713 
1716 
1749 
1734 
1743 
1726 
17a8 
1724 
1738 
1740 
1731 
1741 
1734 
1780 
1730 
1745 
1749 
1721 

1780 
1742 
1716 
1714 
1740 
1730 
1731 
1742 
1722 
1726 
1726 



DELEOATB FBOM 



Massachusetts, 

Massachusetts, 

New Hampshire, 

Virginia, 

Maryland, 

Maryland, 

New Jersey, 

Pennsylvania, 

R. L & Prov. PI., 

New York, 

Pennsylvania, 

Massachusetts, 

Georgia, 

Georgia, 

Massachusetts, 

VJrginia, 

New Jersey, 

South Carolina, 

North Carolina, 

North Carolina, 

R. I. & Prov. PI., 

New Jersey, 

Connecticut, 

Virginia, 

Virginia, 

Virginia, 

New York, 

New York, 

South Carolina, 

Delaware, 

South Carolina, 

New York, 

Pennsylvania, 

Pennsylvania, 

Virginia, 

Maryland, 

Massachusetts, 

North Carolina, 

Delaware, 

Delaware, 

Pennsylvania, 

Pennsylvania, 

South Carolina, 

Connecticut, 

Pennsvlvania, 

New Jersey, 

Maryland, 

Pennsylvania, 

New Hampshire, 

Georgia, 

New Hampshire, 

Connecticut, 

Pennsylvania, 

New tfersey, 

Connecticut, 

Virginia, 



4th Julv, 1S26 
2d Oct.; 1803 
19th Mav, 1795 
lOlh Oct., 1797 
141 h Nov., 1S.32 
19th June, ISll 

• June, 1794 

241h Jan., 1S13 
15th Feb., 1S20 
4lh Aug.. 1^21 
17fh April, 1790 
23d Nov., 1814 
27th Mav, 1777 

Feb., 1790 

8th Oct, 1793 
April, 1791 

: , 1780 

Mar., 1809 

10th Nov., 1779 

Oct, 1790 

l?th Julv, 1785 
9th Mav, 1790 
f.th Jan., 1796 
4th Julv, 1826 

April, 1797 

19th June, 1794 
80lh Dec, 1803 
12th June, 1778 
lost at sea, 1779 
24th June, 1817 
1st Jan., 1787 
22d Jan., 1793 
8th Mav, 1806 

April, 1777 

4th Jan., 1789 

— , 1799 

11th Mav, 1814 

Sept, 1783 

, 1793 

, 1783 

Julv, 1779 

lOlh April, 181,3 
23(1 Jan., 1800 
23d Julv, 1793 
11th Julv, 1806 
28th Feb., 1781 
5lh Oct, 17ST 
23,1 Feb., 1781 
241 h June, 1808 
2d Feb., 1804 
2Slh Nov., 1785 
2d Aug., 1811 
28th Aug., 179S 
15lli Nov., 1794 
1st Dec, 1797 
8th June, 1806 



CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 



"We tlie People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, 
establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common de- 
fence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to 
ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for 
the United States of America. 

ARTICLE I. 

Section 1. All legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in a Con- 
gress of the United States, ■which shall consist of a Senate and House of 
Representatives. 

Section 2. The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members 
chosen every second Year by the People of the several States, and the Elec- 
tors in each State shall have the Qualifications requisite for Electors of tho 
most numerous Branch of the State Legislature. 

No person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the age 
of twenty-five Years, and been seven Years a Citizen of the United States, 
and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which he 
shall be chosen. 

Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several 
States which may be included within this Union, according to their respec- 
tive Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of 
free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and ex- 
cluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons. The actual Enu- 
meration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of tho 
Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten 
Years, in such manner as they shall by Law direct. The Number of Repre- 
sentatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand ; but each State 
shall have at Least one Representative ; and until such enumeration shall be 
made, the State of New Hampshire shall be entitled to choose three, Massa- 
chusetts eight, Rhode Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut 
five, New York six, New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, 
Maryland six, Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five, and 
Georgia three. 



CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 495 

When vacancies happen in the Representation from any State, the Execu- 
tive Authority thereof shall issue Writs of Election to fill such Vacancies. 

The House of Representatives shall choose their Speaker and other OflS- 
cers ; and shall have the sole Power of Impeachment. 

Section 3. The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two 
Senators from each State, chosen by the Legislature thereof, for six Years ; 
and each Senator shall have one Vote. 

Immediately after they shall be assembled in Consequence of the first 
Election, they shall be divided as equally as may be into three Classes. The 
Seats of the Senators of the first Class shall be vacated at the Expiration of 
the second Year, of the second Class at the Expiration of the fourth Year, 
and of the third Class at the Expiration of the sixth Year, so that one 
third may be chosen every second year ; and if Vacancies happen by Resig- 
nation, or otherwise, during the Recess of the Legislature of any State, the 
Executive thereof may make temporary Appointments until the next Meetino- 
of the Legislature, which shall then fill such Vacancies. 

No Person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the age of 
thirty Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States, and who 
shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State for which he shall be 
chosen. 

The Vice-President of the United States shall be President of the Senate, 
but shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided. 

The Senate shall choose their other Ofiicers, and also a President pro tem- 
pore, in the absence of the Vice-President, or when he shall exercise the 
Office of President of the United States. 

The Senate shall have full power to try all impeachments : When sitting 
for that Purpose, they shall be on Oath, or Afiirmation. When the Presi- 
dent of the United States is tried, the Chief Justice shall preside : and no 
Person shall be convicted without the Concurrence of two thirds of the 
Members present. 

Judgment in Cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to re- 
moval from Ofiice, and Disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of Honor, 
Trust, or Profit under the United States : but the party convicted shall nev- 
ertheless be liable and subject to Indictment, Trial, Judgment, and Punish- 
ment, according to Law. 

Section 4. The Times, Places, and Manner of holding Elections for Sena- 
tors and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature 
thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Reg- 
ulations, except as to the places of chusing Senators. 

The Congress shall assemble at least once in every Year, and such meeting 
shall be on the first Monday in December, unless they shall by Law appoint a 
diff'erent day. 

Section 5. Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections, Returns, and 
Qualifications of its own Members, and a Majority of each shall constitute a 



496 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 

Quorum to do Business ; but a smaller Number may adjourn from day to 
day, and may be authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members, in 
such Manner, and under such Penalties as each House may provide. 

Each House may determine the Rules of its Proceedings, punish its Mem- 
bers for disorderly Behaviour, and, with the Concurrence of two thirds, expel 
a Member. 

Each House shall keep a Journal of its Proceedings, and from time to time 
publish the same, excepting such Parts as may in their Judgment require 
Secresy ; and the Yeas and Nays of the Members of either House on any 
question shall, at the Desire of one fifth of those Present, be entered on the 
Journal. 

Neither House, during the Session of Congress, shall, without the Consent 
of the other, adjourn for more than three days, nor to any other Place than 
that in which the two Houses shall be sitting. 

Section 6. The Senators and Representatives shall receive a Compensa- 
tion for their Services, to be ascertained by Law, and paid out of the Treasury 
of the United States. They shall in all Cases, except Treason, Felony, and 
Breach of the Peace, be privileged from Arrest during their Attendance at 
the Session of their respective Houses, and in going to and returning from 
the same ; and for any Speech or Debate in either House, they shall not be 
questioned in any other Place. 

No Senator or Representative shall, during the time for which he was 
elected, be appointed to any civil OflBce under the Authority of the United 
States, which shall have been created, or the Emoluments whereof shall have 
been increased during such time ; and no Person holding any office under the 
United States, shall be a Member of cither House during his Continuance in 
office. 

Section V. All Bills for raising Revenue shall originate in the House of 
Representatives ; but the Senate may propose or concur with Amendments 
as on other Bills. 

Every Bill which shall have passed the house of Representatives and the 
Senate, shall, before it become a Law, be presented to the President of the 
United States : if he approve he shall sign it, but if not he shall return it, 
with. his Objections, to that House in which it shall have originated, who 
shall enter the Objections at large on their Journal, and proceed to reconsider 
it. If, after such Reconsideration, two thirds of that House shall agree to 
pass the Bill, it shall be sent, together with the Objections, to the other 
House, by which it shall likewise be reconsidered, and if approved by two 
thirds of that House, it shall become a Law. But in all such Cases the 
Votes of both Houses shall be determined by Yeas and Nays, and the Names 
of the Persons voting for and against the Bill shall be entered on the Journal 
of each House respectively. If any Bill shall not be returned by the Presi- 
dent within ten Days (Sunday excepted) after it shall have been presented to 
him, the Same shall be a Law, in like Manner as if he had signed it, unless 



CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 497 

tlie Congress by their Adjournment prevent its Return, in wliich Case it shall 
not be a Law. 

Every Order, Resolution, or Vote to -which the Concurrence of the Senate 
and House of Representatives may be necessary (except on a question of ad- 
journment), shall be presented to the President of the United States ; and 
before the Same shall take EfTect, shall be approved by him, or being disap- 
proved by him, shall be repassed by two thirds of the Senate and House of 
Representatives, according to the Rules and Limitations prescribed in the 
Case of a Bill. 

Section 8. The Congress shall have Power 

To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts, and Excises ; to pay the Debts 
and provide for the common Defense and general Welfare of the United 
States ; but all Duties, Imposts, and Excises shall be uniform throughout the 
United States; 

To borrow Money on the credit of the United States ; 

To regulate Commerce with foreign nations, and among the several States, 
and with the Indian tribes ; 

To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization, and uniform Laws on tho 
subject of Bankruptcies throughout the United States ; 

To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the 
Standard of Weights and Measures ; 

To provide for the Punishment of counterfeiting the Securities and current 
Coin of the United States ; 

To establish Post Offices and Post Roads ; 

To promote the progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited 
Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writ- 
ings and Discoveries ; 

To constitute Tribunals inferior to the Supreme Court; 

To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas, 
and Offenses against the Law of Nations ; 

To declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal, and make Rules 
concerning Captures on Land and Water ; 

To raise and support Armies ; but no Appropriation of Money to that Use 
shall be for a longer Term than two Years ; 

To provide and maintain a Navy ; 

To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the Land and Naval 
Forces ; 

To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union, 
suppress Insurrections, and repel Invasions. 

To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining the Militia, and for 
governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United 
States — reserving to the States respectively, the appointment of the Officers, 
and the Authority of training the Militia according to the Discipline prescribed 
by Congress 



498 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 

To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases ■whatsoever, over such Dis- 
trict (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, 
and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the 
United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by 
the Consent of the Legislature of the State in -which the Same shall be, for 
the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, Dockyards, and other needful 
Buildings ; — And 

To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into 
Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Consti- 
tution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Offi- 
cer thereof. 

Section 9. The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any of the 
States now existing shall think proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by 
the Congress prior to the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight, but a 
Tax or Duty may be imposed on such Importation, not exceeding ten dollars 
for each Person. 

The Privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless 
when in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it. 

No Bill of Attainder or ex post Facto law shall be passed. 

No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to 
the Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken. 

No Tax or Duty shall be laid on Articles exported from any State. 

No Preference shall be given by any Regulation of Commerce or Revenue 
to the Ports of one State over those of another ; nor shall Vessels bound to, 
or from, one State, be obliged to enter, clear, or pay Duties in another. 

No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence of Appro- 
priations made by law ; and a regular Statement and Account of the Re- 
ceipts and Expenditures of all public Money shall be published from time to 
time. 

No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States : And no Per- 
son holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Con- 
sent of the Congress, accept of any Present, Emolument, Office, or Title, ol 
any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or Foreign State. 

Section 10, No State shall enter into any Treaty, Alliance, or Confedera- 
tion ; grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal ; coin Money, emit Bills of Credit; 
make any Thing but gold and silver Coin a Tender in Payment of Debts ; 
pass any Bill of Attainder, ex post facto Law, or Law impairing the Obligation 
of Contracts, or grant any Title of Nobility. 

No State shall, without the Consent of the Congress, lay any Imposts or 
Duties on Imports or Exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for 
executing its inspection Laws : and the net Produce of all Duties and Ira- 
posts, laid by any State on Imports or Exports, shall be for the Use of the 
Treasury of the United States; and all such Laws shall be subject to the Re- 
vision and Controul of the Congress. 



CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 499 

No State sliall, without the Consent of Congress, lay any Duty of Tonnage, 
keep Troops, or Ships-of-War in time of Peace, enter into any Agreement or 
Compact with another State, or with a foreign Power, or engage in War 
unless actually invaded, or in such imminent Danger as will not admit of 
Delay. 

AKTICLE II. 

Section 1. The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the 
United States of America. He shall hold his Office during the Term of four 
Years, and, together with the Vice-President, chosen for the same Term, be 
elected, as follows : 

Each State shall appoint, in ^uch Manner as the Legislature thereof may 
direct, a Number of Electors, equal to the whole Number of Senators and 
Representatives to which the Slate may be entitled in the Congress: but no 
Senator or Representative, or Person holding an Office of Trust or Profit un- 
der the United Slates, shall be appointed an Elector. 

[The electors shall meet in their respective States, and vote by ballot for 
two persons, of whom one at least shall not be an inhabitant of the same 
State with themselves. And they shall make a list of all the persons voted 
for, and of the number of votes for each ; which list they shall sign and cer- 
tify, and transmit sealed to the seat of the government of the United States, 
directed to the President of the Senate. The President of the Senate shall, 
in the presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the cer- 
tificates, and the votes Sihall then be counted. The person having the greatest 
number of votes shall be the President, if such number be a majority of the 
whole number of electors appointed ; and if there be more than one who 
have such majority, and have an equal number of votes, then the House of 
Representatives shall immediately choose by ballot one of them for President; 
and if no person have a majority, then from the five highest on the list the 
said House shall in like manner choose the President. But in choosing tho 
President, the votes shall be taken by States — the representation from each 
State having one vote ; a quorum for this purpose shall consist of a member 
or members from two thirds of the States, and a majority of all the States 
shall be necessary to a choice. In every case, after the choice of the Presi- 
dent, the person having the greatest number of votes of the electors shall 
be the Vice-President. But if there should remain two or more who 
have equal votes, the Senate shall choose from them by ballot the Vice- 
President.] 

The Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors, and the 
Day on which they shall give their Votes; which Day shall be the same 
throughout the United States. 

No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States 
at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office 
of President ; neither shall any person be eligible to that Office wh'o shall 



500 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 

not Lave attained to the Age of thirty-five Years, and been fourteen Years a 
Resident within the United States. 

In Case of the Removal of the President from Office, or of his Death, Resig- 
nation, or Inability to discharge the Powers and Duties of the said office, the 
same sliall devolve on the Vice-President, and the Congress may by Law 
provide for the Case of Removal, Death, Resignation or Inability, both of 
the President and Vice-President, declaring what Officer shall then act as 
President, and such officer shall act accordingly, until the Disability be re- 
moved, or a President shall be elected. 

The President shall, at stated Times, receive for his Services, a Compensa- 
tion, which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the Period for 
which he shall have been elected, and he shall not receive within that 
Period any other Emolument from the United States, or any of them. 

Before he enter on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following- 
Oath or Affirmation : 

" I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the OflSce of 
President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, 
protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States." 

Section 2. The President shall be Commander in chief of the Army and 
Navy of the United States, and of the Militia of the several States, when 
called into the actual Service of the United States ; he may require the 
Opinion, in writing, of the principal Officer in each of the executive Depart- 
ments, upon any Subject relating to the Duties of their respective Offices, 
and he shall have Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offences against 
the United States, except in Cases of Impeachment. 

He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, 
to make Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators present concur ; and 
he shall nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, 
shall appoint Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the 
supreme Court, and all other Officers of the United States, whose appoint- 
ments are not herein hitherto provided for, and which shall be established by 
Law : but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior 
Officers, as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, 
or in the Heads of Departments. 

The President shall have Power to fill up all Vacancies that may happen 
during the Recess of the Senate, by granting Commissions which shall expire 
at the End of their next Session. 

Section 3. He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information 
of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such 
Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; he may, on extraordi- 
nary Occasions, convene both Houses, or either of them, and in Case of Dis- 
agreement between them, with Respect to the Time of Adjournment, he may 
adjourn them to such Time as he shall think proper; he shall receive 
Ambassadors and other public Ministers; he shall take Care that the 



CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 501 

La-vrs be foithfully executed, and shall Commission all the oflSccrs of the 
United States. 

Section 4. The President, Vice-President, and all civil Officers of the 
United States, sliall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Con- 
viction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes or Misdemeanors. 

ARTICLE I'll. 
( 

Section 1. The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested in 

one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from 

time to time ordain and establish. The Judges, both of the supreme and 

inferior Courts, shall hold their Offices during good Behavior, and shall, at 

stated Times, receive for their Services, a Compensation, which shall not be 

diminished during their Continuance in Office. 

Section 2. The judicial Power shall extend to all Cases, in Law and 
Equity, arising under this Constitution, the Laws of the United States, and 
Treaties made, or which shall be made, under their Authority ; — to all cases 
affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls; — to all Cases of 
admiralty and maritime Jurisdiction ; — to Controversies to which the United 
States shall be a Party ; — to Controversies between two or more States ; — 
between a State and Citizens of another State ; — between Citizens of different 
States', — between Citizens of the same State claiming Lands under Grants o 
different States, and between a State, or the Citizens thereof, and foreign 
States, Citizens or Subjects. 

In all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, and 
those in which a State shall be a Party, the supreme Court shall have origi- 
nal Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the supreme Court 
shall have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact, with such Excep- 
tions, ar.d under such Regulations as the Congress shall make. 

The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury; 
and such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall have 
been committed ; but when not committed within any State, the Trial shall 
be at such Place or Places as the Congress may by Law have directed. 

Section 3. Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying 
War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and 
Comfort. 

No Person shall be convicted of Treason, unless on the Testimony of two 
Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession in open Court. 

The Congress shall have the Power to declare the Punishment of Treason, 
but no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood, or Forfeiture 
except during the life of the Person attainted. 

ARTICLE IV. 

Section 1. Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the pub- 
lic Acts, Records, and judicial Proceedings of every other State. And the 



502 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 

Congress may by general Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts, 
Records and Proceedings shall be proved, and the effect thereof. 

Section 2. The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all Privileges 
and Immunities of Citizens in the several States. 

A Person charged in any State with Treason, Felony, or other Crime, who 
shall flee from Justice, and be found in another State, shall on Demand of 
the executive Authority of the State from which he fled, be delivered up, to 
be removed to the State having Jurisdiction of the Crime. 

No Person held to Service or Labor in one State, under the Laws tliereof 
escaping to another, shall, in Consequence of any Law or Regulation therein, 
be discharged from such Service or Labor, but shall be delivered up on 
Claim of the Party to whom such Service or Labor may be due. 

Section 3. New States may be admitted by the Congress into this Union ; 
but no new State shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any 
other State ; nor any State be formed by the Junction of two or more States, 
or Parts of States, without the consent of the Legislatures of the States con- 
cerned as well as of the Congress. 

The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules 
and Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging to the 
United States; and nothing in this Constitution shall be so construed as to 
Prejudice any Claims of the United States, or of any particular State. 

Section 4. The Constitution shall guaranty to every State in this Union a 
Republican Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against 
Invasion ; and on Application of the Legislature, or of the Executive (when 
the Legislature can not be convened) against domestic violence. 

AETICLE V. 

The Congress, whenever two thirds of both Houses shall deem it neces- 
sary, shall propose Amendments to this Constitution, or, on the Application 
<of the Legislatures of two thirds of the s'everal States, shall call a Convention 
for proposing Amendments, which, in either Case, shall be valid to all Li tents 
„aad Purposes, as part of this Constitution, when ratified by the Legislatures 
of three fourths of the several States, or by Conventions in three fourths 
thereof, as the one or the other Mode of Ratification may be proposed by 
the Congress ; Provided that no Amendment which may be made prior to 
the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any Manner affect 
the first and fourth Clauses in the Ninth Section of the first Article; and 
that no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal SuflVage in 
the Senate. 

AETICLE VI.. 

All Debts contracted and Engageraents entered into, before the Adoption 
of this Constitution, shall be as valid against the United States under this 
Constitution, as under the Confederation. 



CONSTITUTION OP THE UNITED STATES. 



603 



This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States ■which shall be made 
in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under 
the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land ; 
and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any thing in the Con- 
stitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding. 

The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of 
the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of 
the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or 
Affirmation to support this Constitution ; but no religious Test shall ever be 
required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United 
States. 

ARTICLE VII. 

The Ratification of the Conventions of nine States shall be sufficient for 
the Establishment of this Constitution between the States so ratifying the 
Same. 



Done in Convention by the Unanimous Consent of the States present, the 
Seventeenth Diiy of September, in the Year of our Lord one thousand 
seven hundred and Eighty-seven, and of the Lxlependence of the United 
States the Twelfth. In Witness whereof We have hereunto subscribed 
our Names. 

Geo. Washington, 
President, and deputy from Virginia. 
PENNSYLVANIA. VIRGINIA. 

Benjamin Fkanklin, John Blair, 

Thomas Mifflin, 
Robert Morris, 
George Oltmer, 
Thomas Fitzsimons, 
-Tared Ingersoll, 
James Wilson, 
gouverneur morris. 
DELAWARE. 
George Reed, 
Gunning Bedford, jr., 
John Dickinson, 
Richard Bassett, 
Jacob Broom. 

MARYLAND. 
James M'Henry, 
Daniee of St. Thos. Jenifer, 
Daniel Carroll. 

Attest : William Jackson, Secretary. 



NEW HAMPSHIRE. 
John Langdon, 
Nicholas Gilman. 

MASSACHUSETTS 
Nathaniel Gorham, 
RuFcs Kino. 

CONNECTICUT. 
William Samuel Johnson, 
Roger Sherman. 

NEW YORK. 
Alexander Hamilton 

NEW JERSEY. 
William Livingston, 
David Bkearley, 
William Paterson, 
Jonathan Dayton. 



James Madison, jr. 

NORTH CAROLINA. 
William Blount, 
Richard Dobbs Spaight, 
Hugh Williamson. 

SOUTH CAROLINA. 
Charles O. Pinokney, 
Charles Pinckney, 
John Rutledge, 
Pierce Butler. 

GEORGIA. 
William Few, 
Abraham Baldwin. 



504 CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 



AMENDMENTS 

TO THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES, KATIFIED ACCORDING TO 
THE FEOVISIONS OF THE FIFTH ARTICLE OF THE FOREGOING CONSTI- 
TUTION. 

Article thk first. Congress shall make no law respecting an establish- 
ment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the 
freedom of speech, or of the press ; or the right of the people peaceably to 
assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. 

Article the second. A well-regulated Militia being necessary to the 
security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall 
not be infringed. 

Article the third. No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in 
any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in a time of war, but in a 
manner to be prescribed by law. 

Article the fourth. The right of the people to be secure in their per- 
sons, houses, papers, and eflFects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, 
shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, 
supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be 
searched, and the person or things to be seized. 

Article the fifth. No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or 
otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand 
Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, 
•when in actual service in time of War or public danger ; nor shall any person 
be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; 
nor shall be compelled in any Criminal Case to be a witness against himself, 
nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law ; nor 
shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation. 

Article the sixth. In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy 
the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and 
district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall 
have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature 
and cause of the accusation ; to be confronted with the witnesses against him ; 
to have Compulsory process for obtaining Witnesses in his favor, and to have 
the Assistance of Counsel for his defence. 

Article the seventh. In Suits at common law, where the value in con- 
troversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be pre- 
served, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any 
court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law. 

Article the eighth. Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive 
fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted. 



CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. 505 

Article the ninth. The enumeration in tlie Constitution, of certain 
rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the 
people. 

Article the tenth. The powers not delegated to the United States, by 
the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states 
respectively, or to the people. 

Article the eleventh. The judicial power of the United States shall not 
be construed to extend to any suit in law or equity, commenced or prosecuted 
against one of the United States by Citizens of another State, or by Citizens 
or Subjects of any Foreign State. 

Article the twelfth. The Electors shall meet in their respective States, 
and vote by ballot for President and Vice President, one of whom, at least, 
shall not be an inhabitant of the same state with themselves ; they shall 
name in their ballots the person voted for ds President, and in distinct ballots 
the person voted for as Vice President, and they shall make distinct lists of 
all persons voted for as President, and of all persons voted for as Vice Presi- 
dent, and of the number of votes for each, which lists they shall sign and cer- 
tify, and transmit sealed to the seat of the government of the United States, 
directed to The President of the Senate ; — The President of the Senate shall, 
in the presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the cer- 
tificates and the votes shall then be counted ; — the person having the greatest 
number of votes for President, shall be the President, if such number be a 
majority of the whole number of electors appointed ; and if no person have 
such majority, then from the persons having the highest numbers, not ex- 
ceeding three on the list of those voted for as President, the House of Repre- 
sentatives shall choose immediately, by ballot, the President. But in choosing 
the President, the votes shall be taken by states, the representation from each 
state having one vote ; a quorum for this purpose shall consist of a member 
or members from tvfo thirds of the States, and a majority of all the states 
shall be necessary to a choice. And if the House of Representatives shall 
not choose a President whenever the right of choice shall devolve upon them, 
before the fourth day of March next following, then the Vice President shall 
act as President, as in the case of the death or other constitutional disability 
of the President. The person having the greatest number of votes as Vice 
President, shall be the Vice President, if such number be a majority of the 
■whole number of Electors appointed, and if no person have a majority, then 
from the two highest numbers on the list, the Senate shall choose the Vice 
President ; a quorum for the purpose shall consist of two thirds of the whole 
number of Senators, and a majority of the whole number shall be necessary 
to a choice. But no person constitutionally ineligible to the office of Presi- 
dent shall be eligible to that of Vice President of the United States. 



I 



